The Difference Between Seeing and Believing
by jamrenners
Summary: Post "Girl in the Flower Dress". Really hated the character of Miles so I came up with my own way to deal with him. Eventual Skyeward and Fitzsimmons. Definitely AU. First fanfic.
1. Prologue

**Prologue**

With a small tilt of my wrist, the clear liquid contained in the vile streamed into his mouth. I held a hand over his nose and mouth for a few seconds to make him swallow. The other held a hand-gun to the back of his head.

"Tell me why Rising Tide sent you after me, Miles," I whispered menacingly into his ear. He struggled against his bindings and a slight sheen of sweat coated his face. "Was it so they could have access to S.H.I.E.L.D.? Did you seduce me and then send me in to clear a path so that you could hack into their systems and swipe their data?"

He nodded slowly, his mouth poised as if he were about to say something. A small and indistinguishable noise escaped him.

"Good."

I pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.!

The smell of fresh paint and metal instantly hit my nostrils. I opened my eyes to find myself pressed against the white wall that lined one side of my compartment. Groaning, I pushed away from the wall and slammed my face back into my pillow and tried to fall back asleep.

My peace was soon interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. It slid back abruptly.

"Get up, Skye. Coulson's called a debrief meeting. Five minutes." The voice belonged to Agent May. Someone I did not want to hear from this early in the morning. The door slammed back in place.

I rolled over and looked into the mirror beside my bed. Well shit. My face was unrecognizable. The bags under my eyes and mop of frizz that was once my hair made me look like an old woman. It was enough to convince me that I should break out the heavy-duty mousse that was reserved for bad hair days. Three minutes and half a can of hair product later, I stumbled into Coulson's office looking somewhat presentable.

Four people, who I previously considered my teammates, sat at a glass table, with Coulson, our boss at the head. He motioned for me to sit in an empty seat across from him.

"This isn't an ideal situation, but let's just get this over with, alright?" Silence echoed throughout the room. "Who would like to present the case?" Agent Simmons' hand shot up.

"At 8:52 a.m. yesterday, S.H.I.E.L.D. personnel received information from anonymous sources that Miles Lyndon, a fugitive wanted for multi-million dollar fraud and other felony charges, had been spotted in New York City. Agent Ward and S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant Skye were sent to confirm the sighting and canvas the area. At 9:48 a.m., six blocks away from the initial sighting, the subject was intercepted by Agent Ward, who pursued him on foot into an abandoned brewery, where consultant Skye proceeded to interrogate him with the use of truth serum, and after a brief physical altercation, Agent Ward called for the use of lethal force to neutralize the subject. He was declared dead at the scene at 10:24 a.m."

Coulson cleared his throat. "Thank you, Agent Simmons. Does anyone find the use of lethal force misused in this case? Additional notes to add?" he asked, looking at each of us in turn. We all vehemently shook our heads. He passed around the official case report so that we could sign our names. I slid the folder across to him when we finished. "Nice and simple. Case dismissed."

We all exited the room, one faster than the rest of us. Ward. I hurried behind him, but made sure that he didn't see me. He headed to the one place where he felt at home, the gym. I silently climbed up to the rafters, perched and partially hidden behind a steel beam. Ward set up a punching bag and wrapped his hands. Exhaling, he attacked the suspended object with a violent force that seemed to consume him. I had never seen him punch like this before. I admired his form, his arms exploding with such power that I thought he was going to bust his knuckles. His dark gray t-shirt slowly darkened with sweat.

Half an hour later, with one last burst of energy, Ward knocked the punching bag off the hook. It burst, and sand flew across the floor. I couldn't stay quiet any longer, so I swung myself from the rafters onto a ledge that was a few feet above his head. My landing was perfect, and he didn't hear me.

"You didn't have to do what you just did, Ward. It was only to save my ass. I thought you weren't too fond of me."

He looked up at me and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. "Skye," he said, starting to unwrap his hands, "don't call me Ward. We can address other by our first names now. Second, I didn't lie to cover you; I did it to save the integrity of the mission. And of S.H.I.E.L.D. Not everything has to be about you."

"Coulson probably knows the real story, Grant," I stressed his name. "There's no integrity needing to be saved. He most likely altered the case report already. It's only a matter of time before the team knows."

"I think the team will know what actually happened sooner rather than later, Skye."

"Why do you say that? Do you have psychic powers or something?"

"No," he said loudly. "It's because I am your Supervising Officer, which means that I am responsible for you and your actions. Your actions reflect my abilities both as an agent and an S.O., so whatever I say, you will do. What you will do is tell the team about what really happened yesterday or I will make sure you don't step foot outside of the plane until you do!"

Ward roughly kicked the broken punching bag into the corner and stormed out the door, emphasizing his point.

"Wow," I muttered, "he's actually playing the power card with me."


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Author's Note: This was meant to be a light-hearted and filler-y chapter, but I guess it didn't turn out that way. I tried writing it multiple times, but the plot just kept getting in the way. The start of Fitzsimmons was pretty sudden, but I didn't know how else to write it without dragging it out for multiple chapters. Speaking of chapters, I generally will be posting a new chapter on Friday, with the possibility of an occasional Sunday posting. That's all I can promise. Please review and let me know what you think! Tell me what you want to see because I am very open to suggestions! Thanks.

For the first time in almost eight months, I felt refreshed and didn't have the feeling as if I was being watched every moment of the day. My communications with the Rising Tide had been severed by S.H.I.E.L.D. but it wasn't as if I'd go back to them anyways. I could finally put my past behind me and concentrate on my real task: finding my parents. Hacking into their systems would not be an easy job. Of course, I already had my preliminary ID gained from my consultant status, but that was only going to take me so far into the system. I had to come up with a back-up plan. I needed an ally. The only question was finding someone without alerting S.H.I.E.L.D.

"Hey Fitz," I asked, walking into the lab. He was busy fiddling with a remote control. Simmons was trying to direct their little contraption into its box. "Kinda busy right now, Skye. Give me thirty seconds." The machine whizzed and whirred, and I could hear the small engine working at a million miles an hour.

"Crap! Simmons, hit the kill switch," he commanded, rapidly pressing buttons. "The motor is going to overheat and destroy the motherboard frame!" Simmons punched down the large red button on the control panel on the wall.

"It totally wasn't going to overheat, Fitz. I think you need to stop overreacting. The new lining I put over the propeller is heat-resistant. You're the one who came up with the idea in the first place." She sounded exasperated, like she'd been trying to explain the same idea over and over again for the past three months.

"Don't try to lecture me, Simmons. I'm not a blithering idiot." He stepped closer to her so that they were only half a step apart.

"Fitz, you little disrespecting..." He rushed forward, grabbing her face and kissing her passionately. Simmons stood stiff for several seconds, but then she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, kissing him back.

"Ha! Don't mind me, I'll just stand here looking awkward and watch you two make out." I said, slightly miffed. They broke apart as soon as I said that, their foreheads still touching. Fitz seemed very proud of his moment of courage; a huge grin creeping across his face. "I was going to ask you something important, but maybe I should just leave you guys to do your business." As I walked away, I could hear them kissing again. That made my heart flutter a little.

At a loss, I wandered back to the common area of the Bus. I was really counting on their help, because I can't trust anybody else on here. Grant was out of the question, May would rat me out at the first possible moment, and Coulson was my boss, he couldn't know anything. That left the random rookie agents who floated around on S.H.I.E.L.D.'s orders. They were useless. My only hope now was to wait until the Bus landed back at the hovercraft and track down a semi-trustworthy agent to help me.

The game of Battleship Grant and I played yesterday was still open on the glass table in the middle of the room. He only had one ship still alive, whereas my side had four. I could have won if we had kept playing. I started to pack the game away into the container, but something possessed me to keep it open. It was the last happy memory I had of yesterday. It seemed like so far away. We had to confess sometime. It wasn't going to remain a secret forever. 'You'll get fired' I thought, but then I realized that I had no set contract with S.H.I.E.L.D. Theoretically, it would be fairly easy for me to wipe my files and disappear without a trace.

My laptop was in my compartment, so I could even wipe the data right now. But then I remembered that I was still under an electronics ban. Damn. I don't know why I still had the bracelet on. The whole reason why the stupid thing was attached to me in the first place was to see if I was going to contact the Rising Tide. Miles was dead already, so they really were not my problem. They were non-existent to me. Miles was the one who dragged me into it in the first place. It was time to cut my losses. So, I searched around for a set of handcuff keys. The bracelet was unlocked by itty-bitty handcuff keys. That's sure criminal-proof. The set I found was on top of the bar fridge. Who keeps a set of handcuff keys on top of a bar fridge? Anyways, I wasn't complaining. On my first try, I actually got them open, not triggering any obvious alarms of any kind. Success! Until Coulson's deep and ominous voice came over the loudspeaker:

"Skye, please report to my office immediately. I repeat, Skye, to my office immediately. Thank you." Oh boy.

################################################## #################################

"Why did you take your bracelet off Skye? That's all I want to know. Surely you weren't trying to violate any terms of our agreement?"

"Sir, I thought that it was time for it to come off. It has been three days since you slapped it on me. Three days since I've touched any type of electronic device. Please?" I was sitting in Agent Coulson's office. It was full of Avengers memorabilia, and I could see that he was trying to rebuild his Captain America trading card collection. He didn't look too pleased with me.

"You know what? Since you said the magic words, I'll get rid of the bracelet. However, you are to go back to your training with Agent Ward, and will be assisting Agents Fitz and Simmons in the lab as alternate punishment. Though don't think I've let you off easy. You'll be testing chemical samples all day. It's incredibly boring. You actually might want to consider keeping the bracelet."

"Oh my gosh, thank you," I sighed with relief. "I won't let you down, AC. You rock!" I couldn't believe that I just called him that. He was going to kill me, eventually.

"Go, Skye. Get out of my face. You're stinking up my office with your hair mousse," he shot back. I could feel my cheeks turning delicate shade of pink. I ran my hands through my hair, trying to make it seem less obvious, and then ran out the door.

Quite honestly, I expected something much, much worse. Where was the hard-ass, unforgiving Agent Coulson I had heard stories about? Testing chemical samples wasn't all that bad. Before I dropped out of high school, chemistry was my best subject, as was physics. The training was another story altogether. I didn't think I could handle another pull-up or strike another punching bag. I wasn't exactly in the best position to complain; my life on the bus was almost pure bliss. If I couldn't handle a few weeks of punishment, I didn't deserve to be here in the first place.

The punishment started the next morning in the lab with Fitz and Simmons, testing chemical samples, just like Coulson had promised. The atmosphere in the room was kind of uncomfortable. I felt as if I was intruding at a family party or something. Actually, something less family-like. As always, the two agents were having a jolly old time, as if the events of yesterday had never happened. Still awkward.

"Say, Simmons," I asked, trying to lighten up the mood. "Do you ever wonder what type of life you would've leaded if you hadn't hooked up with S.H.I.E.L.D.? Nice house, married, two kids? That kinda thing?"

She glared at me for a second before replying, a little sharply, "I...well, no. Not really. I joined S.H.I.E.L.D. when I was quite young. There would truly be no reason to consider any alternative. But my first serious boyfriend was an agent. He went missing-in-action on a mission in Tibet a couple of years ago. I'm pretty sure he was going to propose after he came back. I guess that never happened." Her face softened slightly, and she snuck a glance at Fitz, who looked like he was trying to comprehend everything she just said. That was probably the first time he had heard of the ex-boyfriend. "What about you?" She was trying to make me a little self-conscious. I could just feel it.

"I've only been with S.H.I.E.L.D. for like a week, you know. There hasn't been too much time to reconsider my life choices. Maybe it would have been better if I hadn't gotten tangled up in this mess." The beaker I was holding in my hand was starting to shake. No, no, no. Not now. Come ON Skye! Now's not the time! I had to put the beaker down. Too late. Fitz noticed.

"What's wrong Skye?" he questioned, starting at my shaking hands and then back up at my face, which was undoubtedly sickly pale.

"Just...need air, "I choked out, half jogging out of the room. I didn't give them a second thought and ran to the back of the cargo hold, which was empty. That could never, ever happen again. Fitz and Simmons were going to tell May, who would tell Coulson, and it would make its way back to Grant. By then, I'd be dead. Shit. This was supposed to be over. Miles was dead. The Rising Tide wasn't tracking me. S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be my safe haven. I guess it wasn't. I had to go clear the atmosphere. I had to spill it to them. It couldn't be a secret anymore.

Taking a deep breath, I slowly made my way back to the lab. Fitz and Simmons were deep into their work again. I cleared my throat, which made both of them look up. There was no turning back now.

"Okay guys, here's the deal. Monday's case was a disaster. We went in without sufficient intel and protocol..." A loud bang came from the hallway. That certainly saved me from the fire. I peeked out through the hole in the door. Agent May stood at the very end of the hallway which lead to our compartments. A jumble of wires and a computer monitor was on the floor. She could handle picking it up by herself, so we didn't intervene. But I watched as she tried to untangle the glob. The monitor was flipped on its side and I saw something very familiar. Too familiar. It was my computer. The one with the Rising Tide symbol etched on the back.

Agent May was looking through my files.


	4. Chapter Three

Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with this story guys! I never really expected it to get this many views (almost 1,500!) I'm honestly just rolling with the plot and my imagination here. If you have any suggestions, please review or PM me. Until then, here's chapter three. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. If I did, Skyeward and Fitzsimmons would be married and Miles wouldn't exist.

**Chapter Three**

Without thinking, I ran towards Agent May and tried to wrestle the equipment from her grasp. No luck. She had at least twenty pounds on me and more arm muscle than the God of Thunder. Her years of tactical skill training were showing. My six days of it were no match. Crap.

"What the hell," I panted, finally giving up. She looked at me smugly. "Get your grubby paws off of my damn stuff. There's a reason for why there is a lock on my door." I was merely stalling at this point. Even with the complex S.H.I.E.L.D. hacking systems, there was no way she could access my files. That was something she was probably not expecting. I knew exactly what she was up to. She suspected something was up at yesterday's meeting with Coulson. The first draft of the initial case report was on my hard drive.

"Locks are quite easy to pick, Skye. You should know that by know. You're supposed to be the professional criminal." That was all it took to set me off. Anger gushed through my body and heat rose to my cheeks. It was all I could do to not scream in her face.

"I, for one, am not a CRIMINAL. I was a hacker, which is completely different. We didn't break laws, we just found loopholes. Second, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s crappy systems can't hack through my firewall. It's encrypted. So there is no need to make those kind of accusations, Agent May." My tone was bitter. She looked slightly taken aback for a brief moment, but then regained her composure.

"That doesn't mean we can't try. I'm taking your computer to Agent Coulson and he'll decide how to proceed."

"Fine," I said sharply. I watched as she walked away.

Fitzsimmons was standing next to me, trying to comprehend what had just happened. Their mouths were gaped open in disbelief.

"Y-y-you," Fitz stammered, "you talked back to Agent May. How did you do that? Nobody on this bus has that courage." He turned to Simmons and attempted to whisper, but failed miserably: "She's got balls."

"Thanks, but yuck," I said loudly, startling him. He hadn't realized that I might have been listening. Simmons laughed. Fitz just looked embarrassed.

"We'd better get back to work," I said to them, waving back towards the now abandoned lab. "Coulson and May can't find us slacking off."

"Agreed," they said in unison.

################################################## #################################

When I had finished my lab work for the day, it was back for training with Agent Ward. He probably wouldn't like me calling him that, but the name "Grant" just sounded foreign to me. Less professional, more personal. He was waiting for me by the stairs, looking visibly more relaxed than the last couple of days.

"Ready to go?" he asked, trying to keep the conversation from becoming awkward. There were bags under his eyes and his hands shook slightly, as if he were running on an overdose of caffeine.

"Honestly Ward, I just gotta clear the air here," I started. His eyebrows knit themselves into a scowl as soon as I said his last name and he stopped in his tracks. "May has my computer. Do you know what that has? The first draft of the case file. So I'm praying to God that she doesn't crack my security measures. Because if she does, the whole case will have to be reviewed and we'll be suspended. And I really do not want to be suspended. I'm already on thin ice with Coulson for cutting off my bracelet. I'll be kicked out of S.H.I.E.L.D.!"

"Wait, wait, wait. She took your computer?" Ward sounded like he really didn't believe me but he tried to mask it. "Where is she taking it?"

"To Phi...Agent Coulson," I replied. "I bet that they're looking through it right now. They'll find out that we lied and altered the transcripts." I started to panic right at that moment.

"We have to make sure that they don't find out, Skye! Otherwise Director Fury will be pissed. We might as well be dead." Ward sounded slightly desperate. He finally decided to believe me.

"Will you help me?" I asked, knowing that I was just about to attempt the impossible. He sighed slowly, but then nodded. Oh my God. We took off sprinting the direction of Coulson's office.

################################################## #################################

I could hear a slight beeping sound as we approached the office. Ward and I burst through the door at the same time. May and Coulson were gathered around a large screen. Her fingers pressed a few buttons on the control panel. It was a password. She was trying to bypass the security on my laptop. Access denied. It blinked red. She tried this twice, three times, four times. Computer temporarily disabled. She couldn't hack my systems. Yes!

It was then that the two agents finally noticed our presence. Coulson looked like he had been expecting us to burst in the room at any moment, whereas May looked a little peeved. She had just failed trying to access my files, just like I told her she would. I got the feeling that she wouldn't want me saying "I told you so!" to her face.

"So you two decided to turn up," Agent Coulson said, turning his attention back to the control panel. "There's no point in telling you now that S.H.I.E.L.D. is launching a full secondary investigation into Monday's case. You already knew that. It's questionable what they will find. Perhaps Skye's files can give us a few answers, hm?"

There was nothing I could do but stare, not defending myself. "Skye, save us the trouble and please enter your pass codes," May directed, pointing to a small and delicate looking keyboard that she was just using.

"Yeah, no," I retorted. Ward's eyes met mine for a second. Ever so slightly, he nodded his head, seeming to approve of my answer. The corner of his mouth twitched into a tiny smile. "Technically, I don't take direct orders from S.H.I.E.L.D., so I don't have to answer to you."

"You are a S.H.I.E.L.D. consultant," Coulson said firmly. "And you will do whatever any of your superiors want you to do. Do I have to get Director Fury involved in this situation? Because I can assure you that we are very close friends. He's just a phone call away."

Ward shifted uncomfortably. He was intimidated by Director Fury, even though he didn't say so out loud. For a moment I thought I could hear his voice inside my head. 'Just do it. We have nothing to lose now.' Sighing, I stepped towards the board and rapidly punched in my code, making sure that Coulson or May didn't see. FlyingSkyeward122. It was just a little embarrassing. I stepped away quickly and resumed my spot next to my S.O., so fast that neither of them could thank me.

Within seconds, Agent May pulled up the initial draft of the case file. Silently, she and Coulson read over the transcript carefully. They neared the last page, the one that contained the truth. My heart was pounding.

Agent Ward: Go ahead Skye.

Skye: Tell me why Rising Tide sent you after me, Miles. Was it so they could have access to S.H.I.E.L.D.? Did you seduce me and then send me in to clear a path so that you could hack into their systems and swipe their data?

Lethal force deployed. Subject neutralized.

Coulson and May finished reading. Very slowly, they turned to face me. I couldn't read their faces. They remained unmoving. Right then and there, I realized that I would never, ever, be the same person I once was.


	5. Chapter Four

**Chapter Four**

Author's Note: Yes, that was quite the cliffhanger. But don't worry, I'm back with chapter four. It just kinda exploded from my brain and demanded to be written. What did you guys think of 1x06? For now, assume that this story takes place after 1x05. Hopefully I can add a few pieces of 1x06 to the story. Please review and let me know what you think. The fate of your favourite characters is in your hands. Spoilers for "The Avengers". Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Marvel owns everything. *cough cough*.

To my superiors standing in front of me at this exact moment, the words 'traitor' and 'liar' were branded on my forehead. A bead of sweat rolled down my neck. This was going to turn into an interrogation, aided with truth serum or some other means. I wasn't looking forward to that. Neither was Agent Ward, who stood next to me, looking deceptively cool on the outside, but knowing him, he was probably an internal basket-case. He thought that showing emotion made him look weak. Most people didn't think so.

"I'm going to be quite honest with you, Agent May," Coulson said, specifically addressing her. It was like Ward and I weren't even in the room. "I'm having trouble discerning the difference between the truth and a whole mess of lies." His voice was steady, and I still could not read his expression.

"There is a difference between seeing and believing what you read and hear," Agent May stated firmly.

"You have a valid point. I like the way you think," he complimented her. Pfft. He had a boatload of compliments for each and every one of the other agents but none for me? Then I realized that this probably wasn't the best time to bring that up. "Before I continue," Coulson finally addressed us. "Would you two like to share your thoughts?"

"Sir, if you are going to lay the blame on anyone of us, I would say that you should lay the majority of it on me," Ward finally spoke up. "As Skye's Supervising Officer, I accept responsibility for her actions."

"If this was your case to re-evaluate, Agent Ward, how would you proceed?" Coulson asked, totally ignoring his previous statement.

"Personally sir, I would leave the punishment up to Director Fury. I have no business in deciding in the matter."

"Director Fury will not be involved in this case. He has more important matters to attend to. His schedule doesn't allow for him to deal with agents who break protocol. That leaves the investigation and punishment up to me. It is clear to both Agent May and I that the two of you altered the transcripts. I think I have a good idea of why you did it. Miles Lyndon wasn't an armed and dangerous subject. The two of you wanted to get revenge, so when you cornered him, you interrogated him using a dose of truth serum. Then he confessed, and Skye shot him. Am I correct?"

"Agent Coulson," May interrupted. Her phone beeped and flashed. "Simmons has finished Miles Lyndon's autopsy. She found traces of truth serum in the contents of his stomach."

"Excellent. See? That is evidence. Evidence of a crime that YOU committed." He chuckled, his eyes twinkling. "Go. We will have to deliberate over the new data. I'll let you know when you can return."

Ward and I left the room and sat down next to each other on the floor opposite the door. My hands were shaking. He didn't say anything. I could tell he was deep in thought. His expression was tense and he chewed delicately on a fingernail. Against my better judgement, I put a hand gently on his shoulder. He shuddered away from the touch.

"Don't touch me, Skye," he said harshly, scooting a few feet away. I sighed. This was just a giant mess. I never meant for it to turn out like this. It was like the Rising Tide all over again. High-stakes, corrupt and dangerous. Through the tiny window on the office door, I could see Coulson and May arguing, but I couldn't hear anything. They stood unnaturally close together. She turned away from him and reached for a headset. Most likely it was directly connected to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. She spoke quickly for a few minutes, while Coulson was pacing on one side of the room. Suddenly, May smiled and nodded her head. She took off the headset and relayed what she had obviously just heard to Coulson. He grinned from ear to ear. It was good news for them, bad news for us. Ward was watching intently as well. I shot him a look. He pursed his lips and shook his head.

Agent May opened the door. We both stood up rapidly, brushing the dust off our pants. "Come on in."

################################################## #################################

She pulled up two chairs for Ward and I, but she and Coulson remained standing in front of us. Both had looks of pure authority on their faces.

"We have reached a decision." He paused before continuing. "The two of you will be suspended from active duty until further notice. You will be transported to S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters to participate in an intensive training program to brush up on your tactical and negotiating skills. You'll be joining this year's crop of new recruits, and the program is overseen by Agent Hill. She'll be waiting for you on the tarmac as soon as we touch down. If you would like to return to duty, you will complete the program and pass the advanced field test. Your status as an S.H.I.E.L.D. agent is dependent on the results of your test. Do you have any questions?"

Relief and disbelief washed over me. I thought that I was going to surely get fired. Ward didn't quite feel the same way. Clearly, he was angry. I was just waiting for him to explode.

"The RECRUITS program? Seriously Coulson?" he burst out. "You want me...S.H.I.E.L.D.'s very first Level 7 Classification agent, to train with the rookies? You're joking!"

"I'm afraid I'm being serious, Agent Ward. Your actions deemed it necessary. If you would like to avoid any further consequences, I suggest that you participate in the program and pass the test. We very close to deciding to terminate your contract. Consider this an act of mercy."

Ward huffed loudly. Coulson was right; he did let us off easy.

"Where's headquarters?" I asked, trying not to sound too naive. I knew almost nothing about S.H.I.E.L.D. The information was classified, and I only had consultant status.

"Skye, considering the circumstances, we have granted you Level 1 Classification status," May said to me. "Currently, headquarters are stationed in a remote location outside New York City. The Bus is scheduled to touch down tomorrow at 0700. Both of you are required to meet Agent Hill on the tarmac at 0800. Your teammates will be informed shortly. You may go."

She held open the door, and Ward and I walked out. We took off in opposite directions and I headed towards the lab to catch up with Fitz and Simmons. While on my way, Coulson's voice came over on the loudspeaker. 'Agents Fitz and Simmons, please report to my office immediately please. Thank you.' Crap. I missed them. But I kept going until I arrived at the lab anyways. They had cleaned up their testing samples, but several pages of formal documents lay strewn on the table. I caught sight of the title page. New York City Mission 4038 - Classification Level 7 Personnel ONLY.

I just couldn't help myself. I picked up one of a few photographs that were on the table. It was a picture of a small blue cube that looked like it was glowing. On the back of the photo it read: first known appearance - May 2011, New Mexico. Estimated size - 30cm by 30cm by 30 cm. What was this thing? I tried to make sense of what I could of the documents, but several pages had parts that were redacted. Why would S.H.I. . case files have redacted documents? They were in charge of the data.

The little blue cube was apparently called a "Tesseract". It was of foreign origins and its capabilities were unknown, according to S.H.I.E.L.D. scientists. The lead researcher in charge was a man named Dr. Erik Selvig. The Tesseract was the key object in a violent attack by outer forces, and it was now in evidence lock-up under heavy supervision. That was all I could take away from the documents. S.H.I.E.L.D. definitely didn't want this information leaked out, so that's why it was redacted. I'd have to ask Fitz and Simmons about it later when they came back from Coulson's office.

Bored, I found myself back at my compartment. Somebody had left a large box by my door with a note stuck to the top.

Skye -

I figured that you were going to need one of these since you'll be heading into Headquarters for the first time. Gotta look professional. I guessed your size.

GW

Instantly I knew who it was from. Ward. That was thoughtful. Inside the box was a sleek black jumpsuit. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo was stamped on the front. It took me a while to put it on because it fit tightly. But I found that I could move easily in it. Perfect for training and field work.

A few minutes later, Simmons barged through the door. She grabbed and suffocated me in a tight hug. I could hear her sniffles and felt a few tears on my shoulder.

"Simmons, don't cry!" I said. For some reason, I stifled the sudden urge to giggle. It would be incredibly wrong to laugh at a time like this. I slowly inched my hand towards my back pocket, which I knew had a tissue. I waved it in her face and she let go. She gladly took it.

"Oh, Skye! Agent Coulson told us everything. You must feel absolutely terrible. I feel terrible! And now you're suspended and leaving us and, and, and..." She was at a loss for words, so she blew her nose loudly into the tissue. I had never seen her like this before.

"It's not permanent. I'll be back soon, I promise! I only have to train for a little while then pass the field test. A few weeks, tops."

"Maybe you'll even become a full-blown S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. That would be awesome." Simmons was definitely out of sorts.

"Try not to get your hopes up," I told her. "That's probably not even a possibility at this point. I'm still on thin ice."

"A girl can dream," she said, a little wistfully. "Anyways, I'll leave you to your packing. You've got an early start tomorrow morning."

"Bye Simmons. You're a great friend."

################################################## #################################

The shrill blaring of my alarm clock woke me up at precisely 6:45 a.m. I quickly pulled on my jumpsuit, which I had laid out last night, and ran to the nearest window in the common area outside my compartment. You could just make out the faint New York City skyline ahead of us in the early morning fog. As the plane began to circle in preparation to land, I hauled out my suitcases and brought them to the rear loading bay. Ward's bag was already there. He must be an early riser.

By the time 7:30 rolled around, I had already eaten cleared out the rest of my stuff from my compartment. With nothing left to do until eight o'clock, I sat on an empty couch finishing the last of my coffee. One milk, two sugars. The way I had liked since I was a teenager. That seemed so long ago. Even back then, I was living in my old van. I'd been living alone since I was fifteen. I had stolen the van from my poor old neighbour, who had died of a heart attack. Nobody came to collect it, so I claimed it as my own. By my seventeenth birthday, I had come in contact with The Rising Tide, and that was the beginning of a dark chapter in my life.

With seven minutes left until my departure, I made my way over to the loading bay. Sandwiched between Lola and Nessie, Agent Coulson's two vintage cars, stood the rest of my team, minus May, who was in the cockpit. Coulson heartily shook hands with Ward, and Fitz and Simmons had their arms wrapped snuggly around each other.

"Look who decided to show up!" Fitz laughed, gesturing for me to come over. I ran over and swallowed both of them in a group hug.

"Try not to blow anything up while I'm gone, okay?" I joked. "I won't be able to deliver the eulogy at your funeral."

"We promise!" they chuckled, only half truthfully. Coulson walked over, looking like he was a slight bit sad to see me go. At the same time, he was probably glad that I was not on the plane causing any more trouble.

"I gotta say it, Skye," he admitted. "I'm a little bit sad that you won't be around to make fun of me for a little while."

"Oh, don't worry AC, you old geezer. I'll be back before you know it!" He looked offended for a short second, but then smiled. I didn't know whether or not to hug him or shake his hand. Before I could decide, he reached up and wrapped an arm around my shoulders, clapping me on the back gently. I guess you could classify that as a hug.

A beeping noise emanated from the walls. It was time for the ramp to be lowered. I took my place next to Ward, who stood next to my suitcases at the right near the doors. His only piece of luggage was a small duffle bag. He looked comfortable and classy in his dark-wash jeans, white t-shirt and leather jacker, where I just looked ridiculous in my tight jumpsuit. And a bit tacky.

At first, I could only see the top of her head, but as the ramp lowered to ground-level, it was clear that Agent Maria Hill was waiting for us on the tarmac. Like me, she was wearing a S.H.I.E.L.D.-issued jump suit, but hers was a navy colour. Suddenly, I felt a lot less awkward.

"Agents," she commanded. We walked toward her. She gave a nod to Agent Coulson, who was near the back of the loading bay. "Let's move out!"


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

Author's Note: We'll see a familiar face or two in this chapter. As always, please review! Spoilers for the Avengers and AOS 1x01. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. Marvel does. Hopefully they take a hint from the fans and get Skyeward and Fitzsimmons together.

Maria Hill was certainly an intimidating woman. There was no doubt about that. The other agents that we encountered on the way to S.H.I.E.L.D. Heaquarters were somewhat fearful of her. She'd been hardened by what I presumed to be many years working in the field under the world's greatest, and toughest boss. Nick Fury. Agent Coulson and Agent May both spoke very highly of him. As if he were some sort of god. The only god that I'd heard about, however, was the legendary Norse God of thunder, Thor Odinson. That was what I'd learnt about her during a half-hour car ride. Did she have a soft side?

As the car pulled up to Headquarters, I tried not to let my jaw drop to the floor. This certainly wasn't your average commercial office building. It was a flat-looking hover plane thing with four enormous engines. There had to be at least sixty people milling around on the top deck. Parked within forty miles of one of the largest cities in North America. Ha!

"They call it the Helicarrier," Ward whispered in my ear, who was squished next to me in the back seat. "It flies, obviously."

"Really? Is it actually that obvious?" I had no idea that it flew. It had to weigh at least three times the amount of the Bus.

"Can't you tell?" he asked. He was teasing me now.

"Shut up before I knock you out, Ward," I threatened.

"No threats on my watch, Skye," Agent Hill warned me. "I want to make sure both of you arrive on the Helicarrier alive, please. Coulson would kick my ass if you died."

"Yes ma'am."

"Do you have a last name?" she asked. "I can't just call you Skye. And you're not an official agent."

"Several," I replied, not kidding. "Most of them are fake, though. You need one to survive in the hacker world. Can I pick a new one?"

"I don't see why not."

"Hmmm...Blue! Wait, this isn't going on official records is it?"

"No, it won't. I just need you to pick a name I can call you by."

"That'll do then," I replied.

The Helicarrier was more spectacular inside than outside. Agent Hill said we had time to look around before we had to meet up with the rest of the recruits. Ward left fairly quickly to reclaim his old dorm that he had when he was a young agent. I kept forgetting that he had actually lived here before. I was bored. There were endless hallways to float around. Too bad there wasn't a map around anywhere. By some miracle, I found myself heading down a hall that contained numerous science labs. Researchers were working away concocting potions, designing weaponry and calculating statistics. I could almost imagine Fitz and Simmons in these rooms, bickering like always, using their scientific garble that I had no hope in understanding.

Past the labs were long stretches of meeting rooms. The majority were empty, but in one of the rooms there was a group of six people gathered around a round table. Several piles of case folders surrounded each of them, their contents spilling out. I vaguely recognized one of the occupants. 'Think...think back. The Bus. Coulson's office. The west wall. In the corner. Encased in glass. The trading cards. The guy on the cards. The Captain America vintage trading cards.' Captain frickin' America was in that room. All that separated the two of us was a thin pane of glass. Definitely not bullet-proof.

So I waited. I don't really know how long I waited, sitting beside the door on the floor. At last, the door opened, and two people stepped into the hallway. Neither of them were Captain America. A tall, slim red-headed woman with short curly hair in workout attire. An even taller, sandy-haired muscular man in a t-shirt. He had scars running all down his arms. They looked like gun shot wounds mixed with stab wounds. Clearly, both of them were field agents. The woman looked at me. The pitiful young rookie curled up in a ball sitting against the wall.

"Wha...who are you? I don't think you should be down here. We're dealing with classified information." She turned to the man. "I think we should bring her down to Hill's office. Maybe she's a junior agent." The redhead nodded to me. "We'll take you down to Agent Hill's office. You're probably lost. Come along."

"Your name?" she asked. The two agents walked on either side of me down the long hallway.

"Skye. I'm taking part in the training program for new recruits. Though I'm not exactly new to this. I have field experience."

"Field experience. Wow," the man said, sounding incredulous. "At this stage in the game. Tell you what, if you pass your field test at the end of the program, you can tag along with us on a Level 1 mission. We need some fresh blood in the streets."

"That'd be great!" I was stunned. I had been here for less than an hour and I already was in the good books of two senior agents. If Coulson had been here he would have been proud. Climbing up the ranks before training even started.

We stopped at the end of yet another hallway. The woman tapped on the glass before entering Agent Hill's office.

"Well Skye," Hill mused, looking up from her paperwork. "It seems that you have already met Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton already. Making friends with your instructors, huh?"

"M-my what?" I stammered, confused.

"Your instructors," she repeated. "They will be in charge of your training during the duration of the program. Agent Romanoff specializes in hand-to-hand combat." She gestured to the woman. "Agent Barton is an expert marksman." She gestured to the man. That would explain the amount of scarring on his arms. "Thank you," she told them. "You can return to your meeting if you would like." The two agents walked away, leaving me with Agent Hill.

Agent Barton. Agent Romanoff. Their names sounded vaguely familiar. I remember Coulson directly mentioning one of them... 'espionage: highest marks since Romanoff.' Simmons had told me the story one day. I wasn't a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. then. He was comparing Ward to Romanoff. Nobody had beaten her score but him. She must have killed it during her field exam. Ward was an amazing agent. That much I knew.

"I'm gonna let you in on a little secret," Hill announced, waving me towards her. You can't tell anyone, not even Ward. I suspect you're fairly good at keeping secrets. The fact that Agent Coulson is alive is highly classified information and you're one of a handful of people who know about it proves that. You've already met one third of the Avengers team. They're all on the Helicarrier discussing a top-secret mission. If you breath a word of this to anyone, I'll kick you out of S.H.I.E.L.D. Understand?"

"Got it," I confirmed. "Not a word. So, that means Iron Man, the Hulk, Captain America, Thor, Black Widow and Hawkeye are all on board? The whole team? The ones who defeated the aliens and took control of the Tesseract?"

"How do you about the Tesseract?" she asked sharply. "The file is supposed to be redacted!"

"I ummm...Simmons had the file open. I couldn't help myself."

"I suggest you try to erase that memory and go join your fellow recruits for dinner. Training starts at 0600 tomorrow morning. Also, don't mention Coulson around here. I'm the only one around here that knows he's alive. It's not common knowledge. The Avengers absolutely CANNOT know he is alive."

"Certainly, Agent Hill." I wanted to know why Coulson was such a secret around here. To save it from the Avengers, sure, but why don't other senior agents know? But I didn't ask questions. I only walked out the room and headed for my dorm.

Due to my special circumstances, S.H.I.E.L.D. had granted me my own private roomy compartment. It even had a bathroom! My luggage had already been placed on my bed, so I began unpacking. I suspected that the reason why I got my own room was because I had access to classified information and I was suspended for misconduct and breach of protocol. It didn't really bother me. I was used to being alone.

Being alone had its benefits and drawbacks. There was nobody to disturb you whenever you were working, and you had to manage yourself and your responsibilities. On the other hand, you felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness. Sometimes it was acute, other times less so. The only time in my life where I wasn't alone was when I was with Miles. We all know how well that turned out. The fact that I was considered a 'murderer' hadn't really dawned on me. I honestly did not think very much of it. It only just made my list of criminal offences longer. Off the top of my head, I remembered that I had been wanted in the past for fraud of over one million dollars, robbery on numerous occasions and extortion. Well, I hope S.H.I.E.L.D. never finds a reason to do a background check on me.

Unpacking took me no time at all. There wasn't much stuff to deal with in the first place. At precisely 5:30 p.m., I went to the cafeteria to eat. My fellow recruits would be there, and that was something that I was not looking forward to. They seemed so young and innocent compared to the senior agents who had a won-out look after many years on the job. It was a little hypocritical of me, but it was the truth. On tonight's menu was roast chicken and pasta with vegetables. Decent enough. How did this place employ cooks? Wouldn't that be a violation of the secrecy code. They probably heard a lot serving the agents that passed through everyday. I picked a mostly empty table. There were only two junior agents sitting at the end farthest from me. They looked like they were best of friends. I never had a best friend growing up. I felt a pang in my chest.

"Excuse me, but can I sit here?" a man asked, tapping me on the shoulder. I turned around. An older, kind-faced round man motioned to the seat across from me.

"Absolutely. Go ahead, sir," I replied moving my tray so that he had more room.

"You seem to be a nice young lady. That's not something you see around here very often, Agent..."

"Blue," I finished. The name sounded garbled on my tongue. Very unnatural. I read the name tag on his sparkling white lab coat. Dr. John Browning. Simple enough. "Tell me Doctor, how long have you been with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Thirty-six years this spring," he replied. "I'll be retiring at the end of the year. I've taught many young agents in my career. Some of which are considered to be the best scientists this organization has ever seen."

"I've met a few reputable scientists through S.H.I.E.L.D. Leo Fitz and Jemma Simmons, to be specific. They are now qualified agents, actually. Their work is quite extraordinary, if I say so myself. But I'm no expert in the field."

"Ah, the lovely Fitzsimmons. I was their original supervising officer back when they were training. They worked well as a pair. Almost too well. It's like they can read each other's minds. Both of them were assigned to study outside of Headquarters approximately a year ago. I haven't seen either of them since. You've met them?"

"I have. They now work in a lab as part of a mobile unit. Does everybody call them Fitzsimmons?"

"Why yes. Crazily in tune to each other as they were, I coined the nickname. I was tired of addressing them separately."

"That's funny. Do you have any good stories about them?" I was genuinely curious, but felt a little guilty that they weren't here to defending themselves.

"You bet I do! Settle in, young lady. You're in for a ride."

################################################## #################################

By the time Dr. Browning had finished telling me his stories, my sides hurt from laughing. I found out how Fitz became obsessed with monkeys. He had been assigned to work a case in the Amazon Rainforest, and the monkeys had fascinated him to no end. Fitz almost brought one back to keep as a pet, but Director Fury woudn't allow it. He had to settle for a fish instead.

Dr. Browning would be teaching my explosive diffusal class. He specialized in nuclear weapons. They were an important part in field training. You had to be able to diffuse an explosive while on the fly. The class was apparently a relatively new addition to the program. S.H.I.E.L.D. had lost far too many agents in blasts they were not prepared for. To prevent any further loss, it became a requirement for new agents. He also had extensive experience in aircraft engineering. He was one of the many engineers who worked to build the Helicarrier a few years back.

It was now almost eight o'clock, and against my better judgement, I began to wander the halls again. I was going to be exhausted tomorrow, but I didn't care. The meeting room the Avengers had occupied earlier was now empty. They were now probably in their rooms, which were in a restricted area on the other side of the Helicarrier. I had accidentally bumped into the guards that were stationed there on my way to the cafeteria for dinner. Note to self: don't go down the west hallway. I wondered were Ward was. I hadn't seen him since the car trip on the way here. That was odd. Usually we would know where we both were at all times. But we weren't attached. Or attracted to each other. Definitely not attracted to each other. I mean, he was good-looking and smart, but he was my S.O. That would be seriously awkward.

To be honest, I missed being on the Bus. I missed my compartment. I missed Simmons. I missed Coulson and Fitz. Hell, I even missed hard-ass May. I knew that I had to get back there as soon as possible. I would be here for a minimum of three months, provided that I passed the field exam. I was feeling pretty confident that I would. I had senior agents vouching for me.

Tired of wandering alone in the halls, I headed back to my room. It was simply furnished, but the bed looked relatively comfy. That was a bonus. No hard mattress for me. After getting changed into my pyjamas, I settled beneath the comforter and closed my eyes. Then the dreams started.


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Author's Note: I'm really happy about how well this story has turned out. Your favourites and follows are what inspire me to write. Chapter six has come early for you guys. Enjoy! Please review and tell me what you think. I'm open to all suggestions at this point. Spoilers for AOS 1x01 and 1x02 and the Avengers. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. It would be on their tenth season if I did.

The other agents slowly took their seats around me in the training centre. I had never seen such a huge facility in my entire life. It had all the standard gym equipment, two sparring rings and even a rock-climbing wall. S.H.I.E.L.D. certainly spared no expense when it came to the training of its agents. I was beginning to regret the late-night walk down the halls of the Helicarrier right about now. The only thing keeping me awake was a strong dose of caffeine and a sugar spike courtesy of my morning muffin. Across the room sat Ward, who looked much better than I did. His eyes were alert as he watched Agent Hill taking the morning attendance.

Our names weren't officially on the roster, and that suited me just fine. However, the other agents in the room were not pleased. I had ditched the uniform and opted for regular workout gear. That was a poor choice. Now it just looked obvious. All the other agents wore their issued suits. I really didn't care about what they thought of me at this point. It was if Ward and I were somehow were special. Different. That was partially true.

We broke off into our assigned groups. There were about twelve agents and four instructors. Unfortunately, or fortunately, whichever way you want to look at it, Ward was in my group. I tried not to pay much attention to him. Our first class of the day was psychology, followed by the explosive diffusal class with Dr. Browning, one that I was actually looking forward to. After a lunch break was hand-to-hand combat training and marksmanship, taught by Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff. That would be interesting.

Psychology did not appeal to me. The subject I found to be relatively boring, but our instructor, Dr. Jenkins attempted to make it interesting. But I knew that it would come in handy in the field, especially if we found ourselves face to face with our assailants. We learned about the types of criminals and what their general psychological characteristics are. I fit the requirements that he listed on the chalkboard. Not a good way to start your morning.

Explosive diffusal training was challenging. I could see why Fitz and Simmons would enjoy this class. My hands were not steady enough while adjusting wires, and I accidentally set off a false trigger wire rigged to my device. Nobody else had that problem. After that, I felt a little bit self-conscious. Dr. Browning told me to brush it off, and by the end of the class I could successfully dismantle my first fake explosive.

At lunch, I didn't really want to sit near anybody and listen to their chatter; I chose a spot in a quiet corner. After a while, Ward walked up, sort of obnoxiously. That was unlike him. What was he playing at?

"What do you think you're doing, Ward? The other agents think we're phonies already. You're not helping things." In no time, there would be rumours about me filling this place. I could just feel it.

"Trying to channel my junior agent stupidity. I can't believe that I was this stupid back then. Anyways, I'm getting sidetracked. Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff are coaching us privately this afternoon. Hill put in a special request."

"Really?" I asked, incredulous. It was not every day that a senior agent gave you private lessons.

"Yep," he replied, taking a bite of his sandwich. "Just confirmed it with Agent Hill. Do you want to do combat or go out to the gun range first?"

"I'll go out to the range first." I wanted to save combat for last. Agent Romanoff scared me a little. "And I promise I won't say bang," I added. Ward rolled his eyes.

"You'd better," he said, sounding more like my S.O. "Don't embarrass me out there. You're the first one I've had to train. I'm trying to keep my record spotless."

"Spotless my ass," I snorted. "You must have had done a few things while you were a junior agent a couple of centuries ago."

He looked insulted for a brief second, and then resumed a look of concentration. "I have only one. I'll tell you about it later. We have to meet them by the main sparring ring in five minutes."

Oh. I was really looking forward to hearing the story. We both finished up the rest of our lunches and returned the trays. We walked to the meeting spot together. I tried not to stop and stare at the beautiful equipment as I passed. It was mesmerizing. Brand-new, shiny and clean.

The senior agents stood by the rock climbing wall. They whispered to each other quietly as we approached. Clearly they had been partners for a long time. I could tell my watching their movements. Agent Barton was her shadow, always mimicking what she did. It was almost beautiful to see.

Agent Barton stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you under normal circumstances, Agent," he said, shaking my hand firmly. His grip on my hand was slightly painful. I tried not to let it show as I silently moved my hands behind my back and massaged my right hand with my left. I smiled and nodded, and he led me to the gun range.

"Have you had much experience with using a gun?" he asked, selecting a small handgun from the rack that hung on the wall beside the target we were going to use for practice.

"Some experience, sir. I finally learned the difference between the safety release and the magazine release," I replied.

He chuckled quietly. "Great. So I don't have to teach you how to use one. Why don't you pick a specialty weapon? A bow perhaps? That's usually my weapon of choice."

I picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows from the rack. He presented me with a leather arm guard and showed me how to load my bow and position myself in from of a target. "Now," he instructed, demonstrating the actions for me. "With your left hand on the frame, grab the string with your first three fingers and pull to release the arrow." He expertly shot his arrow extreme precision into the centre of the target.

Timid, I shot my first arrow. It landed in the yellow zone of the target. I expected to do much worse my first time around.

The corners of Agent Baton's mouth twitched into a smile. "Not bad," he said. "We can definitely work with that. Try again."

After about forty-five minutes I could finally hit the centre of the target consistently. I was puffing and red in the face, partially from exertion, partially from frustration. My fingers began to become sore as I pulled constantly on the thin wire that contained my arrow. By next week there would be probably be calluses forming there. I really liked using a bow. Not quite as deceptive as a gun, but extremely quiet and accurate. I could see why Agent Barton liked to use it. It would be a fantastic weapon to use in combat.

"Very impressive, Skye. I don't think I've had an agent who learned how to use a bow that quickly. But then again, I don't teach much."

"Thank you Agent Barton," I said, returning my bow to the rack, wiping the sweat off my forehead with the back of my head. "It was a pleasure to learn from the best."

"Oh please!" he laughed. "Call me Clint."

"Who was the greatest person who ever taught you?" I asked. Being that skilled with a specialized weapon was not normal. Maybe he grew up in a crazy family.

"Phil Coulson. A man named Phil Coulson. A senior S.H.I.E.L.D. agent who was killed the day before the Battle of New York. He was my mentor for a long time."

Chomping on the inside of my cheek, I struggled not to say something. I desperately wanted to scream 'I know him! I know him! He's alive, damn it!' I couldn't. It made me want to explode.

"According to Agent Fitz, he was quite an extraordinary man," I offered, trying to deflect his attention off of my face. It was probably bright-red, or worse, ghost-white.

"That he was. However, it's time for your turn in the sparring ring with Agent Romanoff. Hurry, she's probably waiting. You don't want to upset her, trust me." I was saved, for now. This secret was going to be hard to keep.

"Alright. Thanks Clint!" I yelled, waving and walking away at the same time. I saw Ward approaching as I neared the main sparring ring. He clutched an ice pack to his face and in his hand was a mass of bloody tissues. Oh boy. If he was injured by Agent Romanoff, I might as well walk away right now. I'd be dead within the hour. There was no point in me going if I was going to die.

"My God Ward! What happened to your face?" I rushed forward and grabbed hold of his wrist. Judging by the marks on his face, I suspected that he would be covered in bruises tomorrow.

"Agent Romanoff, that's what happened," he told me gruffly. He wasn't used to being beaten by a girl, clearly. "She had me pinned and then...boom, she started throwing punches." Ward murmured a few expletives under his breath. "I'm dismissed from training for the day. I'll see you later."

Great. That left just me and Romanoff. She stood in the centre of the arena, staring at the ground and rubbing the edge of a blood stain with her shoe. Ward's blood. Dressed in a black tank top and shorts, her fiery red and curly hair was put up in a loose bun. _How was her hair possibly that vibrant shade of red?_ I thought. _She must get it coloured. But where?_

"Good morning, Skye," she said curtly, eyeing me carefully. I did the same. "Are you ready to get started?"

"Yes ma'am," I replied, ducking under the barrier and joining her in the middle of the ring. "Always."

She raised an eyebrow. "I like your attitude. Okay then. Show me your defensive stance."

################################################## #################################

Walking into my hand-to-hand combat training session, my knowledge of fighting was basically zero. I knew how to box a punching bag and that was about it. Walking out of my session with Agent Romanoff, dripping with sweat and swearing, I found out that punching a stationary object was a level 0.01 on the scale of one to ten of effort. She had me spend at least ten minutes just standing in my defensive stance as she corrected my form. I was too quick to drop my hands from my face so that I could protect myself.

Not wanting to spend any more time in the training centre, I showered and changed as fast as I could. Then I went to find Ward. I first went to check the infirmary. He wasn't there. Most likely because he didn't want Coulson to find out that he'd been injured. S.H.I.E.L.D. kept track of our every move. Agent Hill would be sending our logs to Coulson, maybe multiple times a day. We were still suspended, after all. That left his room. I had to check the agent directory to find out where it was. It took me a while, but I finally found the hallway it was located in.

It was the last room at the end of the hall. I knocked on the door quietly. On the other side of the door I heard a thump. He peered through the eyehole. After seeing me, he unlatched the chain from the door and turned the lock. The door opened slowly. Ward looked no better than when he first left the training centre. His face was sickly pale. The only colour I could see was the clear outline of the bruises that were beginning to form. The mass of bloody tissues was still in his hand and there was more oozing from his face.

"Hm," he mumbled, stumbling back to the couch that lined one side of the room. I walked in. It had only been maybe just over two hours since he left and the place was already a disaster. There was blood on the cushions and the bag of frozen peas he was using as an ice pack was split open and spilling everywhere.

I went into his small bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. After soaking it in cold water, I brought it back to him. He accepted it gratefully and began wiping the blood from his face. There was a tube of arnica cream on coffee-table. It would help with the bruising. I squeezed some onto my fingers and used my free hand to tilt his chin back. As gently as I could, I rubbed the cream on his cheekbones and around his nose, where the bruising was the worst.

He grimaced a little as my fingers made contact with his face. "Ward, you're going to tell me everything that happened. I'll go to Agent Hill today and put in a request to send you home. You need to heal," I said firmly. There was no way in hell that I was going to let him go back to training and get punched around like that again. That wasn't what he was here for.

"You...can't Skye," he groaned. "We have orders from Coulson, remember?"

"Unfortunately, I don't give a flying crap about what Coulson right now. You need to heal so you can go back into the field. Isn't that what you want to do?"

"Yes," Ward said finally. "I want to go back into the field. I miss it. I miss it like hell."

"Then I'm going to go talk to Hill. How about you try to sleep? I'll go find you a blanket."

The blankets weren't hard to find. I adjusted his pillows and spread the blanket out over top of him. Making sure he was comfortable, I sat down at the end of the couch, waiting until he fell asleep.

After a few minutes, I could hear soft snores. I placed a fresh bag of peas and the tube of arnica within his reach and slipped out the door as quietly as possible. From memory, I made my way to Hill's office. I opened the door.

"Excuse me, Agent Hill. We need to talk. Now."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Author's Note: Since I love you guys so, so much, here's chapter 7 for you. Yes, Skyeward will be heading back to the Bus soon. I have the ending all planned out and I'm really excited. I really hope you guys will like it. And no, I'm not going to spoil it for any of you. Please review and tell me what you think of this chapter. Thanks to shorty1018rae for her input. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. I wish I did *sobs quietly*.

Agent Hill looked up sharply at me, her eyes narrowed in confusion. Slowly, she stood up and walked around to the front of her desk. I stepped forward so that our faces were only a foot away from each other. "Yes, Skye?" she inquired.

"Perhaps you haven't heard the full story," I said angrily, "but my Supervising Officer just got is ass kicked by one of your senior agents, who is supposed to be TEACHING him. Not killing him. He has a black eye, a bloody nose, and he almost passed out because he walked ten feet. Do you call that teaching, Agent Hill? Maybe we have different interpretations of the word 'teaching'. I sure as hell don't classify that as teaching.

"Please sit down!" she commanded loudly, pulling over a chair for me to sit on. I did what I was told. "Let me clarify for you. Agent Ward and Agent Romanoff were training using combat simulation exercises. Since Agent Ward is exceptionally talented, she decided to test him using a variety of combat techniques. She played the role of the assailant. Agent Romanoff may have gone a little to far during the exercises and that is what caused Agent Ward's minor injuries."

"Minor? You call those injuries minor?" I could feel the anger bubbling in my chest.

"Yes," she replied. There was a hint of sadness in her voice. "I know of many agents who have sustained life-threatening injuries during training exercises. Things like severed arteries and internal bleeding."

"That still does not excuse what she did, Agent Hill," I countered, feeling very impatient. All I wanted was for Ward to go home. I didn't have time for this.

"Romanoff will be facing disciplinary action. That is S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol. As for Agent Ward, he will be excused from training and I will put in an application to get him transferred off site back into Agent Coulson's jurisdiction. However," she continued. "You will remain on-site until you successfully complete the advanced agent field exam. Your test date will be moved so that you may leave as soon as possible."

"Thank you," I said harshly, maybe a little too much so. Giving her a curt nod, I quickly left the room. I had to tell Ward. He'd be leaving soon.

The door to his room was unlocked, so I let myself in. He was still asleep on the couch where I left him last. His face was still and peaceful. Slowly as to not disturb him, I sat on the floor beside his head and gently took his hand that was dangling over the edge. His hands were warm but felt rough. All the years of using weapons and punching objects made them tough and indestructible. Silently, I touched my cheek to his hand and closed my eyes.

It was the movement of his hand that woke me first. Rubbing my eyes, I stood up. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a clock. It was now seven o'clock in the evening. Ward grunted, haphazardly trying to sit up. His hand slipped and he flopped back down onto the couch.

"You went to Hill, right?" he asked weakly, shutting his eyes again. "Can we go back home?"

"Ward, I tried. She's putting in an application to send you home, but I have to stay here until I pass my field exam. And then Barton and Romanoff said that I can join them on a low level mission. So I'll be coming home a few weeks after you."

"Don't call me by my last name, Skye. I hate that, remember?"

"Yep, I do remember that. Those were very different times," I said, trying to keep him stressing out. He didn't need that while he was in the process of healing. "I'll go down the cafeteria and bring back some dinner. You must be hungry."

"Starving," he admitted. "I heard its shepherd's pie tonight. Grab lots for me. It's legendary around here."

"Noted. I'll be back soon. Don't try to get up while I'm gone, alright?"

"Okay. I'm staying right here," he said finally. I grabbed the key by the front door and shut it behind me.

Through the large window that lined one side of the hallway on the way to the cafeteria, Agent Romanoff was visible. She and Agent Barton were in line, holding empty plates. Crap. I did not need to see her after what happened to Grant. Carefully, I made my way in and got in line. But then she spotted me. Double crap. Our eyes met for half a second. Hers were narrow and cold. She didn't say anything, thankfully. I loaded two plates with shepherd's pie and dinner rolls and then I scurried back up to the room.

Coming back, I put the plates down and helped Ward sit up on the couch. His face was regaining more colour. That was a good sign.

"I made sure to bring you extra. Though there was hardly anything left. Agent Barton took like half the pan before I got to it."

"Was Romanoff with him?" he asked, accepting the plate and fork I handed him.

"Of course. Those two are inseparable. They must have quite the history together."

"The two of them have been partners since before I started training to become an agent. They're S.H.I.E.L.D.'s best agents, apparently. There have been rumours going around for a number of years that they're involved. I don't think so. I think the two of them are just really close."

"Probably a betting pool on who is going to make the first move too," I commented, taking the first bite of my dinner. Grant was right. It was extremely delicious.

"That wouldn't surprise me. I bet the rest of the Avengers are in on it," he chuckled. "They know them a lot better than we do."

"True," I said, offering him a roll.

"Thanks," he said. "It must be pretty uncomfortable to sit down there, Wanna sit on the couch?" He struggled to make room for me to sit.

"Sure," I replied, helping him shift to one side. I sat down. The rest of the meal was silent. As in awkward silence. He ate slowly, gingerly taking each bite. Every few minutes he would wince.

"You didn't go to the infirmary. They would have given you pain medication, you know. So you don't have to suffer."

"For a good reason, Skye. Coulson would have found out. Then he would have launched an investigation. And I would be suspended for duty for who knows how long." It would have crushed him if he couldn't go back into the field. Even if it was only for a short period of time.

"I'll see what I can scrounge up for you. How's your face?"

"Feels like it got run over by a truck."

"At least you're being honest," I remarked, taking his empty plate and putting it by the kitchen sink. "Maybe you should go to bed early tonight. You need the extra sleep if you want to heal fast."

He offered me his hand. I wrapped my hands around both of his shoulders and he stood up carefully. He was trembling a little. Step by step, we made it to his room.

"There you go," I said, moving the comforter away as he sat down. I spread them over him again.

"Go to sleep," I murmured quietly.

"Skye?" he asked softly, looking up at me. "Come." He shifted held open the comforter to let me slide in.

"Sure." I couldn't say no. I lay down facing him, my head below his shoulder. His hand brushed over my hair, resting between my shoulder blades.

"Goodnight, Grant."

################################################## #################################

The next morning it was a struggle to open my eyes. I was so warm and comfortable. Then I realized where I was. My eyes suddenly flew open.

"Whoa, um...I." The memories of last night finally hit me. I was with Grant. In his bed.

That's when he woke up. "This must be awkward for you," he said, rolling over to face me. I looked at his face. The bruises had now fully blossomed and they layered his face in black, blue, purple and yellow.

"Just a little!" I tried to force a laugh. "Feeling a bit better?"

"Much," he replied confidently.

"Excellent. I'll go see how Agent Hill is doing with the transfer paperwork. Make sure you go eat some breakfast in the cafeteria. Meet you there in a few minutes."

He grasped my hand before I had the chance to move away. "Thank you," he said simply.

"You should be thanking Agent Romanoff." I loosened my hand from his grip, got up and left to go find Hill.

Instead, I found her assistant. Agent Hill was in a meeting with somebody whose identity was classified information. Great. But she left a document for me with a note on it. The note read:

_For Rookie Agent Skye:_

_Ward's transfer application has been approved. A transport team will arrive at 1:00 p.m. to bring him back to the mobile unit. Please inform him of this. The arrangement we made earlier still stands._

_Signed,_

_Senior Agent Maria Hill, Deputy Director of S.H.I.E.L.D._

In official S.H.I.E.L.D. letterhead, the document outlined the specifics of the transport. He was going to be taken by car to the airfield, where the Bus was scheduled to land. They would depart at 2:30 p.m. Thanking the assistant, I went to the cafeteria, paper in hand.

With two plates he sat in the back corner at an empty table. I walked up, smiling for his benefit.

"Guess what? Your transfer has been approved. You're going back to the Bus today! Isn't that exciting?"

"Yeah. Maybe, I guess," he replied wistfully. "I really do like it here though. It's like my first home, you know?"

"The transfer team will pick you up at one o'clock today. I'll help you pack your stuff before you leave. And I'll send some things along with you to give to Simmons."

"Breakfast?" he asked, handing me an overloaded plate. "I hope you like pancakes and sausages."

"My favourite."

"So, tell me about your training sessions yesterday. I'm curious. Are they better teachers than me?"

"Of course not!" I replied, punching him lightly in the shoulder. He winced. I guessed he had bruises there too. "Nothing compares to you."

"Good. I thought that I was going to have to find myself a new rookie when I got back."

"Never. You won't lose me to this place. I like the Bus too much. And the team. You too, perhaps."

"That's what I like to hear."

################################################## #################################

"What time is it?"

"Like I said thirty seconds ago, Grant, it's 12:57."

"Just checking."

The two of us stood on the deck of the Helicarrier, waiting for the transport detail to arrive. We would see the car as it pulled up to the exit ramp. I had his duffle-bag slung over one of my shoulders and my free arm was around firmly encircling his upper body, making sure that I was there to catch him in case he passed out.

Somebody cleared their throat behind us. I whipped around. It was Agent Barton and Agent Romanoff. Awesome.

She was here to formally apologize. "Agent Ward, before you leave," she said. "I would like to apologize for my actions yesterday. I've realized that I was clearly out of line during training and I never meant to harm you in any way whatsoever. Will you accept my apology?" She held out her hand.

Almost unwillingly he shook her hand and nodded and replied "thank you ma'am," in return.

"I hope I will get the chance to meet you again, Agent," she declared. He nodded again. The two agents walked away to inspect another part of the deck.

When they were safely out of earshot, he whispered in my ear. "Yeah, not likely." I had to stifled a full-blown laugh and settled for a quiet chuckle.

"Your ride's here," I told him. A sleek black car with tinted windows rolled into view. It slowly made its way up the ramp to meet us. Barton and Romanoff joined us again to say their final goodbyes. The passenger door opened and a man in a black suit and sunglasses stepped out. Behind me I heard the two senior agents gasp in horror.

Author's End Note: This one was difficult for me to write and I think I redid it three separate times .Yes, it was filler-y. Chapter 8 will be better, I promise.


	9. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

Author's Note: On a roll this week, so here's chapter eight for you. I'm truly overwhelmed by the number of views this story has, so I'm gonna keep this going for a while. Your reviews have been amazing! There is slightly language in this chapter, but similar content to the others. Spoilers for the Avengers and 1x07. And no, I don't think this story classifies as a crossover, but correct me if I'm wrong. Tell me what you want to see! Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The man in the black suit and sunglasses was very familiar. At least to me he was. However he took one look at the senior agents behind me and a stream of expletives came pouring out of his mouth.

"Shit!" he swore, taking off his shades. "I obviously did not expect to see you here Agent Barton, Agent Romanoff." Coulson.

Barton started off by stating the blunt facts. "Of course you didn't sir. You're dead. Or supposed to be, anyways." Romanoff was incapable of saying anything. She was still in shock. She clutched Barton's shoulder for support.

"Yes, I died. For about eight seconds, give or take a few. Or was it forty? Never mind." he muttered the last part quietly to himself. He shut the car door, walking around to where Romanoff stood, as still as a statue.

"Natasha. Natasha!" he pleaded, desperately hoping for her to react. "It's me. I'm real. Alive. It's Phil. Phil Coulson." She didn't say anything. She only pressed a small button on the side of her watch. Barton knew what it was.

"No, Nat! Why did you do that? Why did you sound the distress signal? They're all going to find out!"

Who was 'they'? I wondered. Then it hit me. She alerted the Avengers. The Avengers would all find out that Coulson was alive. Director Fury had staged his death prior to the Battle of New York. It was to motivate them. Slowly they would realize that they were trapped in a web of lies. What else was S.H.I.E.L.D. lying about to them? They were supposed to be the most powerful weapons in the arsenal. Or so they thought.

It was too late. The remaining members of the Avengers were already on the top deck, making their way towards where we were congregated. Coulson had maybe ten seconds to hide before they unearthed the greatest secret S.H.I.E.L.D. had failed to hide. He didn't move a muscle. The first one to reach us was Captain America, not wearing his patriotic costume. Utterly shocked and confused, he sank to his knees in front of him. The rest of the team caught up behind him.

Neither of the men knew what to say. Finally Coulson broke the silence. "This is a greater sight that Tahiti, that I can tell you. It's a magical place." Grant snickered quietly.

"Have we met?" Captain America asked, standing up and offering his hand to Coulson. "My name is Steve. Steve Rogers. Or Cap, if you would like." They shook hands heartily.

"You are one hell of an idiot, Steve. That's Phil Coulson." one of his teammates told him. Steve didn't flinch. He must be used to the insults.

Coulson shook each of their hands one by one, reciting their names as he went. "Steve. Tony. Thor. Bruce. Clint." He stopped at Natasha. She didn't extend her hand. He clapped a hand on her shoulder instead. "I never thought that I'd be able to see you all together again."

At that precise moment, the six teammates suddenly exploded. I tried to decipher sentences in the flurry of words that came out their mouths. Most of them were angry, but Steve's eyes shone with tears, a mixture of both admiration and relief. "Enormous lies. Director Fury. S.H.I.E.L.D. council." That was all I could make out. After a minute or two, the talking fizzled and Coulson was able to speak again.

"Unfortunately ladies and gentlemen, I came here for a specific purpose and my schedule is fairly tight. I am here to retrieve one of my agents." He gestured to Grant, who still looked almost as confused as the Avengers a minute ago. "I will be returning in the next couple of weeks, and will have more time to spend with you all at that time." He waved Grant and I forward. When he was safely sitting in the car, I dropped his duffel bag in open trunk and shut it.

"Bye," I said, reaching my arms into the car and awkwardly hugging, suppressing the urge to do anything else. "Have a safe trip."

"Don't screw up, Skye. I'll kill you if you do," he joked.

"Not if I get to you first. Thanks for the kind words!" I shot back, closing the door of the car.

Phil was still talking to the Avengers. He unceremoniously said goodbye, and as he was about to get into the vehicle, Romanoff rushed to hug him. Slightly taken aback for a moment, he hugged her in return. "See you soon, Natasha," he said. Coulson got in the car and buckled his seatbelt. The engine started and the car drove away. The remaining seven of us on the top deck of the Helicarrier were left waving goodbye in its dust.

Clint turned to me, speaking on behalf of the rest of his teammates. "We would like to invite you to our next Avengers Initiative team meeting. We would appreciate your input. Tomorrow night at 7:00 p.m. in the science wing meeting room, where we met before." The rest of the team nodded their assent.

"I'll take you up on your offer. Thank you," I said. Smiling at each of them for a split second, I walked across the deck and inside. Alone.

################################################## #################################

With it being so late in the afternoon, I decided to forgo my afternoon training sessions. Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton would be too busy to teach my anyways. Not having anything to do or anyone to report to, I sat alone in my room, sorting through my belongings. which were already neatly organized. I had always been excessively organized. That was probably one of the reasons why I was so good with technology. My attention to detail was excellent.

The one non-essential item that I brought with me onboard was a picture frame. It was empty. I had yet to find anything suitable to put in it. It wasn't like I walked around all day taking pictures with a ginormous camera. Technology was expensive. S.H.I.E.L.D. was paying me basically nothing. They provided me with food and a space to sleep, and that was good enough for me. I didn't have a shopping addiction like some other women my age did. The most expensive thing I owned was my laptop, and even that didn't cost very much because it was an older model when I first purchased it. The amount I could get for it now was around two-hundred dollars, maximum.

There were only a total of seven other agents enrolled in the program. None of them lived in my wing. They weren't too sociable and none of them had said a word to me since I had arrived. They were certainly a PLEASANT bunch. But what they lacked in social skills they made up in physical skill. They clearly had all been training for this moment their entire lives. Maybe their parents expected this of them. Nobody was pressuring me. Except for Coulson. My future of S.H.I.E.L.D. was depending on whether I passed the field exam or not. I could even be granted "Agent" status if I did well enough.

By the time four o'clock rolled around, my room was absolutely, positively spotless. I had even found a duster in the supply closet down the hall to use in my cleaning efforts. I was proud of myself. It was one thing that I was actually good at. Cleaning. My niche. My mother would have been very pleased.

It hurt to think about my parents. They were a bit of a mystery and the memories I had of them were virtually non-existent. I was a small child when I was dropped off of an orphanage. Though I was trying, I still was unable to recover any information about them via S.H.I.E.L.D's databases. That bothered me greatly. They were supposed to be the biggest, well-funded, private peacekeeping organization in the world. The fact that they had crappy databases was mindblowing.

Unwilling to face the prying eyes of my peers and other agents, I quickly went the cafeteria to get some dinner and ate it alone in my room. I kind of missed Grant's company, though sometimes it was downright awkward. Other times, he was a perfectly amiable person. Better yet, I missed Simmons. Even her annoying scientific chatter. Soon I could go back. I vowed that I would get out of this place as soon as humanly possible.

More mentally exhausted than physically, I decided to go to sleep early. If Barton and Romanoff were going to be teaching me tomorrow, I had to make sure that I was overprepared and well-rested. I closed my eyes, trying to think about being back on the Bus again. A slow smile creeped across my face as I finally succumbed to sleep.

Sometime during the night, my blankets must have shifted. I woke up shivering in my thin pyjamas, even though it was almost summer. With a bad start to my morning, trudging to training seemed like a chore. That changed as soon as I stepped into Dr. Browning's explosive diffusal class. He made me feel a lot better about myself.

"Outstanding work, Skye. You certainly will excel in this portion of your field exam," he praised.

"All the credit goes to you Dr. Browning. I just sit here and do what I'm told," I replied.

"Aw, I'm flattered," he said, giving my work a final once-over.

"As you should be," I chuckled. Clearly I was becoming one of his best students. And most likely one of his favourites, though he claimed to not pick favourites. I didn't believe him, even for a moment.

Only Agent Romanoff would be teaching me that afternoon. Agent Barton was off preparing material for tonight's Avengers meeting. Picking up from our last class, she walked me through a few more offensive boxing movements. I could tell that she was more subdued compared to the other day. Trying not to kill me, I guessed. That would be a good thing.

"Are you still coming to the meeting tonight? Haven't changed your mind?" she asked as we were cleaning up the gym after our session.

"Of course not, Agent Romanoff. I wouldn't miss it for the world," I responded, trying hard not to let my excitement show in my voice.

"At seven o'clock in the science wing," she reminded me as I walked away.

"Yes m'am."

Too lazy, and sore, to move too far, I skipped dinner and headed straight to the meeting room. I was the first one to arrive. The others arrived as one large group a few minutes behind me. A small, muscular man with jet-black slick hair handed me a thick file. I think his name was Tony, if my memory served me correctly. The five of them found their seats around the table.

Cap clapped his hands. "Ready to get started?"

The majority of the meeting was basic administrative duties. They reviewed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s explosive diffusal mission protocol, and thanks to my limited knowledge on the subject, I offered my opinion wherever it was needed. Closer to the end, the lead scientist, Dr. Banner, asked me a question.

"Skye, how did you get your start with S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"I was brought in for questioning by Agent Melinda May about three weeks ago when they were investigating a case. Agent Coulson thought that I would be an asset to his team, so I was recruited and joined as a consultant. I don't have my official agent qualifications yet, though I would like to."

"Very intriguing," Dr. Banner observed. "But I think the question that we would all like the answer to is: how in the world you were allowed to come in contact with Agent Coulson even though qualified agents were not?"

The whole table turned to look at me. I felt very self-concious. My cheeks turned a slight shade of pink as I answered.

"To be honest with you sir, I did not know that it was classified information up until a couple of days ago. Agent Ward informed me about it just before we left to come here."

"Ah, I understand. Thank you," he said. They continued with their meeting a few minutes longer. As they began to shuffle their papers, a thought came to mind.

"What happened in New York?" I blurted out. The room instantly became silent.

"Should we tell her?" Thor asked his colleagues. He was the only foreign member in the group of Avengers. None of them moved. "Might as well. A fine young lady such as you deserves answers."

"That case is classified!" Tony argued, banging his fist on the table. "Director Fury handled it himself, remember?"

"Yes, but she already has access to information we don't even have access to Tony," countered Cap.

"Fine," Tony spat.

"Okay Skye, here's the story," Dr. Banner began.

################################################## #################################

New York sounded like the battle to end all battles. The entirety of the city had been under siege by alien forces. As Dr. Banner told the story, I began to piece together the bits of the story that my old teammates had also mentioned. Coulson hadn't said much about New York, only the fact that he was stationed in Tahiti recovering and the Avengers were unaware of his existence. What the Avengers were telling me matched what he had said. A Norse God, like Thor, had come to Earth via Dr. Erik Selvig's Tesseract portal and blew up the lab. He took Clint and another senior agent hostage and grabbed the Tesseract. The whole team of Avengers was assembled and smaller battles were fought leading up to the big finale. Clint was saved by Agent Romanoff when he came to attack the Helicarrier. Loki, the evil God, had created an alien army using the power of the Tesseract and he set them loose on the city by another portal he had created. The only way that the Avengers could close the portal was if they used Loki's Tesseract-powered sceptre, which they did. After the battle, L oki was sent back to his homeland, Asgard, to pay for his crimes. The Tesseract was then reclaimed by S.H.I.E.L.D. and was being held in evidence lock-up.

For a few moments after he finished speaking I was speechless. The fact that the Avengers had saved the huge city of New York from mass destruction was breathtaking. No human life had been lost.

"Wow, um I...I uh." I tried to form actual words, but nothing came out, just gibberish.

"That's what I'd thought she'd say," laughed Cap. The whole team chuckled, Thor's laugh booming loudly over the others'.

"Now that you know the full story, do you have any other questions? Perhaps a few less pressing ones?" Dr. Banner asked with a slight smile, pushing his thin wire-framed silver glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I don't think so, sir. It was truly an honour to be in attendance tonight. Thank you again."

Collectively we all stood up and headed for the door. As I exited the room, somebody tapped me on the shoulder. It was Tony. He wanted to say something.

"Look, I want to apologize for raising my voice like that at you. I'm sorry. The topic is a little sensitive for me, you see."

"No it's fine, really. I'm sorry. I won't bring it up again."

He nodded and returned to cleaning. "Pepper is going to kill me. I'm a dead man," he muttered under his breath. Who was Pepper? I suspected she was his girlfriend. Young, good-looking. Like the girlfriends of most men of his status. She probably wasn't onboard the Helicarrier. We were still parked outside of New York and she would most likely be living in the famous Stark Tower I had heard about. Done for evening, I headed back to my room yet again. I liked it there. It was isolated and quiet. Perfect for me to do a little digging.

When I got back, I popped up the lid of my laptop and started it. What I expected to find, I didn't know, but it was worth a try. With a passcode that I was able to swipe from an agent back on the Bus, getting into the databases was extremely easy. The file that I wanted was right there in front of me. I clicked it.

Anthony "Tony" Stark

Date of Birth: May 7th, 1969

Place of Birth: Queens, New York

Parents: Howard and Maria Stark

Also Known As: Iron Man

Special Skills/Weapons in Posession: extreme competency in computer sciences, engineering. Built world's first man-operated specialized prosthetic weapon. 42 known "suits" in posession.

So he was the famous Iron Man. The one the rest of my team couldn't shut up about. My first impression was that he was a snarky and belligerent man with an innate sense of entitlement. His father had founded Stark Industries. I knew that off the top of my head, That would make Tony a billionaire. It was quite possible that he was the richest man in North America.

The rest of the files on the other Avengers was easy to find and none of them were redacted. There were no passcode locks or anything on them to keep them protected. S.H.I.E.L.D. sure invested a lot of money in their security department. The last file that I looked at was Agent Romanoff's. There were no issues in accessing it until I tried to access a case file that was redacted. That was odd. It must've contained really important information for it to be redacted to that level.

Out of the heavily blacked out pages, the only information I could recover that it was labelled case number 0963, the mission took place in Moscow, Russia, it involved Clint Barton and both he and Agent Romanoff were seriously injured. Intrigued, but not being able to find anymore on the case, I closed my computer and turned off the lights, trying to imagine what ever happened during case 0963.


	10. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

Author's Note: I have plans to write at least three more chapters of this story. I also have a couple of unrelated AOS songfics in the works as well. In this chapter we will see Skye's adventures in the Helicarrier and some crazy things will happen. Try to catch the very subtle Avengers cast reference in this story. Please review!

Throughout the night, I tried to imagine different scenarios relating to case 0963. I knew that Agent Romanoff spoke Russian. She swore a few times when I landed her a hard punch or two in the gut during training. That was oddly satisfying. Clint didn't look like he spoke much Russian, but him being her partner for so long; he probably picked up a few bit and pieces here and there. So, they were both familiar with the language and the mannerisms, and most likely the country itself. More than a few S.H.I.E.L.D. missions had involved travelling to Russia in the past. The file was dated September 15th, 2004. Soon after that, Agent Romanoff's name appeared in the agent roster. There was only one way to find out what really happened.

Before my afternoon training session with her the following day, I pondered how to approach the subject. Since the file was heavily redacted, it must have been a seriously damaging mission. Something they didn't want anybody to know. One wrong move and I could end up as fish bait.

Wrapping my hands with cloth padding in the main sparring arena, I waited for her to arrive. When she finally did, I stopped, letting the roll of cotton drop to the ground.

"Agent Romanoff," I started, trying to channel my best 'serious and professional' face. "How did you end up at S.H.I.E.L.D.? You haven't told me the story."

Her face hardened for a moment. "It's confidential. The file is redacted," she replied briskly, pushing the large red mat to the middle of the arena.

"Don't think I haven't noticed." That was definitely case 0963.

That set her on fire. She immediately stopped in her tracks, and looked up at me slowly. Her face was terrifying; a mixture of immense rage and crippling emotion. She walked over and stood directly in front of me, her steel-grey eyes piercing.

"You may be used to getting all the answers, but believe me, some things you are better off not knowing.

"Then I'll just go ask Agent Barton," I said, smirking. I was venturing into dangerous territory.

"He won't say anything either. It's redacted for a reason. He's sworn on his life."

"Guess we'll have a dead man on our hands, Agent Romanoff." I turned on my heel and ran out of the training centre as fast as I could before she had the chance to catch me. There were no words describing how badly I shattered everything I had created in the past four days. Forget Barton being dead. I was dead.

I ran all over the Helicarrier, checking each room that I could access without a key for Agent Barton, hoping he would not be in a restricted area. Finally, I found him in the cafeteria having lunch. He sat with a few fellow agents. I tapped him on the shoulder and he jumped.

"Can I help you, Skye?"

"Yes, Clint. You can. 0963."

Abruptly he stood up and marched into the hallway. I followed behind him.

"How the hell do you know about that?" he asked angrily, his face uncomfortably close to mine. All the barriers had broken. I was in hot water now.

"Did a little digging, Agent Barton. I was curious."

"You're lucky I trust you. I know that you're a former hacker, and I know that you'll get access to the file sooner rather than later, so I'm going to help you out a little bit. What I did during that mission broke S.H.I.E.L.D. protocol, and I am not proud of that. The rest you'll have to find out on your own. That's all you're going to get out of me." He stomped away.

So, not only had Coulson told Hill about my origins, but she had leaked it to my instructors. I might as well paint myself red and tape a sign to my back saying 'kick me!'

There was only one thing for me to do. Get the rest of the file. And how exactly was I supposed to do that? Then I figured it out. I needed somebody's pass codes. Somebody high up in the rankings that had access to the file. Agent Romanoff. My plan: crawl through the ventilation shaft that lead to her room and watch as she typed her password. She was going to alter the file tonight probably, so I had to do it fast. It sounded a little creepy, to spy on her, and dangerous, but I had to do it. I had to.

Within half an hour I was making my way down the shaft. I had to be careful not to make any noise, and only had a rough sketch of a map to guide me. The pipe was slippery and it was barely wide enough for me to fit. Finally, I found myself looking through a vent at what appeared to be Agent Romanoff's room. Clean, organized and there was a laptop sitting open on the table. Score.

A noise came from the kitchen. She was here. And now the wait began. Still in her workout clothes, she walked in with a glass of water and sat down on the couch. She flicked on the T.V. and popped a movie into the DVD machine. Agent Romanoff didn't strike me as the movie-loving type. It was an old movie that I didn't recognize. Shakespeare-ish. The reason why I dropped out of school. I hated Shakespeare.

It was two hours long, and I stifled a yawn in order not to be heard. She moved over and sat at the table, starting up her laptop. I inched my way forward, straining to see each key she typed into the S.H.I.E.L.D. database system.

5211NRCB20704

Taking a random pen out of my pocket, I scrawled the digits on the back of my hand and made my way back along the pipe as quietly as possible. She didn't look up as I moved away, so I guessed she never heard or saw me. The line of pipe that was using ended and was covered by a grate that came out over top of the hallway that led to my room. Making sure that nobody else saw me, I jumped out and landed softly on my feet, just like Grant taught me. Then it was my turn to crack open my computer.

###################################################################################

Carefully, I punched in the access code, and crossed my fingers, praying that it would work. The screen flashed green, Access granted. Case number 0963.

Date: September 15th 2004

Location: Moscow, Russia

Status: Completed

S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent: Clint Barton

Purpose: To eliminate a highly dangerous product of the Red Room, the Black Widow

Suspect: Natalia Romanova

- wanted for the deaths of at least 56 American civilians

- skilled in hand-to-hand combat

- possesses a dangerous electrical-based weapon (origins unknown, possibly from the Red Room)

Schedule:

- the suspect will leave an event on September 15th after 22:00 at the Moscow Orchestra Hall, possibly accompanied by a male

- said agent will engage the suspect in combat with the intent to kill. If there are any other civilians, they will be disposed of

- both parties will wait to be contacted by S.H.I.E.L.D. to confirm extraction

Extraction Plan:

Headed By: Senior Agent Phillip Coulson

Location: Moscow Orchestra Hall, Moscow, Russia

Responsible For: Agent Clint Barton

Date: September 15th 2004

Time of Expected Contact: 22:18

Results:

- suspect not disposed of by said agent

- both parties sustained serious, but not life-threatening injuries. Both were treated by S.H.I.E.L.D. medical personnel

- Natalia Romanova now known as Natasha Romanoff

- with the express permission of Senior Agent Phillip Coulson and Director Nick Fury, the suspect was granted temporary access to S.H.I.E.L.D. access

- suspect to undergo extensive mental rehabilitation to reduce the risk of violent outbursts

- said agent temporarily suspended for breach of protocol

Updates:

- Natalia Romanova has joined S.H.I.E.L.D. to fill the capacity of field agent (October 2nd 2004)

- Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff have been partnered to work together in the field (October 21st 2004)

Signed:

Natasha Romanoff

Clint Barton

Phillip Coulson

Director Nick Fury

Paul Agutter (Council Member)

Holy crap. I was probably breaking all the rules that existed in this place. I hacked it. I wasn't a hacker. Not anymore. If S.H.I.E.L.D. ever found out that I had hacked the file, they'd kill me. Not just Director Fury and the entire Council, but Coulson and the rest of my team. I cracked open one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s most secure files like a fifth-grade science project.

Agent Romanoff had a criminal past. That wasn't surprising. But Agent Barton was sent to kill her. He didn't. He saved her. She owed everything to him. No wonder they were so close. Partners for nine years. In the field you had to trust your partner with your life.

My field exam was less than two weeks from now. I had to pass. I wanted to get out of this tornado of lies as soon as possible. But I had to make sure that S.H.I.E.L.D., or any of the Avengers for that matter, would catch me with restricted files. That was a job for an experienced hacker. You're looking right at one.

###################################################################################

The schedule was always the same for the next two weeks. Psychology, explosives, session with Barton, session with Romanoff. On a calendar I snagged from the common room for my rookie class, I began to cross off the days until my exam. I noticed that I was becoming more muscular and my academic classes became less tedious. I was actually enjoying myself for once, albeit wearing my stretchy S.H.I.E.L.D. training suit.

Eight days. Seven days. Six days. Five days. Four days. Three days. Two days. One day. Tomorrow was the day. One more day until I got to go home. But then I remembered that Agent Romanoff and Agent Barton wanted me to go on the mission with them if I passed. Make that two days.

After my last training session with Agent Romanoff, she stopped me. "Skye, I want you to remember that the test doesn't matter. It's your skill that does. Don't stress about it. Do what you have been practicing and you'll be just fine."

"Yes ma'am," I chirped, in a mock salute. "I will do my very best."

"I certainly hope so," she said, dismissing me.

Trying not to stress about the exam that would take place the next morning, I spent the rest of the day in my room attempting to pack my suitcase. It didn't really help with my nerves, but it gave me a sense of accomplishment. The last thing I packed was the still-empty picture frame. Something had to fill it, and I only had one day to find something. Once I got back on the Bus, having access to any sort of camera was next to impossible. After the exam, somebody would take a photograph. I was sure of it. Especially if I passed. It would go in a scrapbook or a wall of fame somewhere.

If Grant had been here, he would have given me a bit of a pep-talk, trying not to look like he cared, but he really did. He was a real softie. I wish he was here now. Two more days. I fell asleep dreaming about seeing him and Fitzsimmons back on the Bus. Where I could be free.

End Note: Yep, that was a short one. I wanted to give the actual exam its own chapter. If any of the case facts are wrong, please let me know. I filled it out off the top of my head. Thanks for being awesome!


	11. Chapter Ten

Author's Note: Today's the day! Exam day! If you don't remember what the heck I'm talking about, I suggest you go back and reread the previous chapters. Please review and tell me what you think. Chapter 11 will come sooner if you do! Spoilers for all of the AOS episodes currently aired and the Avengers. Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

The atmosphere in the training centre was tense and electrified. All of the other rookies, too nervous to sit down, lined the walls. I was content sitting alone drinking my weak coffee. First up on the agenda was our psychology test, the only separate component of the entire day. The explosive diffusal test would be combined with the combat test. Each rookie would go through the course separately. To my delight, there was a woman standing with a large camera, who would be taking pictures of us during the test and afterwards when we finished.

"Good morning, rookies!" Agent Hill shouted, taking her place at the front of the room. "I hope you all are very well prepared. Before we start, do we have any volunteers to go first?"

A few scattered hands shot up. Mostly burly and overconfident dudes who wanted to get noticed by the senior agents who would be placed throughout the course to monitor our progress. Secretly, I wanted one of them to break a nose or something to knock all of them down a few pegs. That would sober up the occasion. She picked the most obnoxious boy to go first. A few of his friends whooped and hollered as he stepped into the adjoining room and shut the heavy metal door. We weren't allowed to watch any of the tests, and we would be isolated from the others once we finished to keep the cheating to a minimum. The tests were a big deal around here.

After about an hour and a half, the group of seven dwindled until there were only two of us left. Me and one of the quieter, less unpleasant boys. Vaguely, I remembered that he did particularly well in the psychology course.

"Skye!" Hill called, appearing at the door, clipboard in hand. Clearly she had forgotten that she was the one to suggested that I give her a last name she could address me by. I was 'Skye' to her now. Oh well, I'd be leaving soon.

Exhaling heavily, I followed her through the metal door and stopped when I hit the line of red tape. This was the room that had been off limits to us during training. I could see why. It was a long and narrow room, primarily made of concrete, with steel rafters and walkways swerving through it. Meant for the test.

"Part A...psychology," she told me, stationing herself behind a panel of glass that was supposed to be the judging booth.

"Got it," I confirmed. A shrill buzzer sounded. I stepped over the red marker and walked deeper into the room. It reminded me of a warehouse of sorts. On high alert, I looked around constantly, ready for any kind of trouble. A bang echoed from the other side of the room. A man dressed in black wielding a fake butcher knife came into view. My first suspect. And I had to talk him down. I was ready, and in a split second all of my training kicked it. Let's do this.

Without as much as a second thought, I breezed past the psychology portion, which surprised me, because I really didn't pay much attention in that class. The combat and explosives test came next. Following a discrete paper arrow on the wall, I climbed the stairs and found myself in a small fortress-like building. There were guards there. Actually, they were senior agents pretending to be guards. Three of them converged on me, pointing their unloaded handguns. Quickly I took them out. They fell like dominoes. Past their still bodies, I could see a small package, half-hidden by a nylon cover and a shelf. My bomb.

"Yellow with red, Fred is dead. Red with yellow, he's a happy fellow," I recited, picking up a pair of wire clippers that were conveniently strewn on the floor not far from the explosive. As carefully as possible, I had to lift the main circuit board and cut the correct wire, making sure not to touch anything else in the process. That could set it off accidentally. It was flashing red and emitted a periodic beep. A tiny timer said that I only had four minutes to disable it before it would detonate. My hands started to shake as I reached for the cover. This wasn't the time.

Steadying myself with a deep breath, I tried again. This time it worked, and I cut the right wire quickly and smoothly. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a grey-clad figure. It was Dr. Browning. An almost invisible smile lit up his face. He couldn't show favouritism when it came to the test. I had to move on or I'd run out of time.

I made it out of the fortress building without incident. No other agents were there to challenge me. The end of the test was in sight. There was the same red tape and metal door less than fifty meters away. I broke into a sprint, desperate to finish this test. All I wanted to do was go home. A few steps away from the end, a familiar shadow jumped out, almost cat-like. Not even looking at the flaming red hair, I could tell that it was Agent Romanoff. I had to fight my instructor.

She stood in a defensive stance, shifting her weight between her feet, arms raised. With all my strength, I threw my best punch, heading straight towards her face. She caught my hand easily, twisting my arm and wrapping herself behind me, pinning my arms. I knew exactly what to do, and it wasn't what she taught me. It was Grant who did.

The skill I fought so hard to master, and finally did. In a fraction of a second without thinking about what I was doing, I had Agent Romanoff's arms pinned to her sides. I gave her a hard shove in the shoulder and she fell to the ground.

Puffing slightly, I put the heel of my boot on her ribcage to keep her pinned.

"You've done it, Skye. You're done. Go," she wheezed, not even trying to move.

"Thank you, Agent Romanoff. It's been a pleasure." I turned and crossed the finish line. The buzzer sounded again. The sound of cheering hit me as I opened the door.

A crowd stood collectively on the other side. I counted sixteen people. My seven fellow rookies, Dr. Browning and my psychology instructor, Agent Hill, Director Fury, and the Avengers, minus Agent Romanoff. Definitely a crowd. Director Fury stepped towards me.

"It is my honour to present you with your Agent status," Fury told me, handing over a small manila envelope. I ripped the top open carefully. In it was a certificate of sorts, confirming the results of my field exam. I struggled to breathe for a moment. I did it. I passed.

"We were sure that you would pass, so we printed it early," Agent Hill added, a small smile flashing across her face.

Moving any farther was a huge effort. Trying to hide my fatigue, I shook everybody's hands and thanked them. Surely no other agent in my class got a cheering section as big as mine.

"Thank you for everything. I appreciate it. Now if you excuse me, I have to go start packing."

"I suggest you take a nap first," Dr. Browning said. "You look a little beat."

"That sounds like..." I began, but a young man walked in, carrying in a large camera.

"Sorry to bother you, but could I get a picture of all of you?" he asked, placing his equipment down. "For the Wall of Fame?"

The group assembled around me, smiling.

"Say cheese!" A bright flash went off. "Perfect." The man left quickly.

Agent. Agent status. Agent Skye, Level One. It was all surreal. In two days time I would be back on the Bus. Where I belonged and where I could make a difference.

"You have been an exemplary student, Agent," Hill said. "Tomorrow you can join Barton and Romanoff on a Level One mission if you would like."

"I wouldn't miss it," I replied, shooting a glance at Agent Barton. He looked pleased. "If you don't mind, I'll go take that nap now." They all laughed and nodded, waving goodbye.

There was no single word to describe how I was feeling. Utterly exhausted, satisfied, elated. All of them flashed through my head. And I would be getting that picture to fill my frame. I had accomplished more than one thing today. I guess I earned a nap.

###################################################################################

The clock beside my bed read 5:23 p.m. when I woke up. I had been asleep for more than six hours. That was way more time than the average nap. It was dinner time now. My classmates were in a variety of states when I saw them in the cafeteria. Some were half-asleep on the tables; others sported blossoming bruises and bloody bandages. All of them had made it through the course and passed. That had to be some kind of record. By now, word had gotten out about my cheering squad. A few looked at me with displeasure. "The special one" again, no doubt. Well, I was the one who go through without the injuries, so I guess I was special.

Rookie of the year. Most likely to succeed. It was high school all over again, without the braces and the bad perms. But no yearbook. I never stuck around long enough to get one of those, but I didn't mind. It was another reminder of the normalcy I never had.

The next afternoon came around way too soon. It was the day of my Level One mission, and I had to report for duty at four o'clock. I had a feeling that it either would go really well or very, terribly wrong. With the Helicarrier in the air, we would be taking off in a smaller plane from the deck to get to our location. Barton and Romanoff were already in the foyer when I arrived, with their S.H.I.E.L.D. gear on and weapons in hand. For once, I didn't look out of place. They turned around and started walking to the cargo hold before I had the chance to reach them, so I had to run and catch up. Quietly, I heard Agent Romanoff mutter to her partner:

"Definitely rookie of the year, Barton."

"Agreed. Likeable, but a bit of a suck-up."

"Hey! I can hear you from over here!" I said loudly, trying to defend myself. They both looked over at the same second.

"That was constructive criticism, Agent," Romanoff said coolly, allowing me to climb into the Quinjet first. "Learn to deal with it."

The plane was much smaller than the Bus, and its interior was simply furnished, but I think that's why S.H.I.E.L.D. preferred to take it on missions. Most of it was built for cargo storage, but there was a row of seats lining one side and a few scattered windows that you could see out of.

"Prepare for takeoff," said a monotonous voice over the intercom. "We will be departing from runway E shortly, and are scheduled to land in Nevada in six hours."

We took our seats. Agent Romanoff pulled out a book, while Agent Barton began to clean his bow. She was reading a thick hardcover with intricate patterns scrawled on the front. A Modern History of Russian Art. So, Shakespeare and European art. Very interesting.

"Here's the lowdown on the mission, Skye," Agent Barton said to me, not taking his eyes of his bow. "It's fairly simple, in-and-out procedure. We have to retrieve an undercover S.H.E.L.D. agent who needs help identifying a 0-8-4. It was identified as low-risk, but anything can happen on these sorts of mission. The agent is stationed at the Victorian Hotel on the Las Vegas Strip. She's been undercover for four months, and has the device in her possession. It belonged to a known drug king-pin, who was killed last July. The device passed through many people's hands until she got it, and she couldn't verify the content of the object."

"What kind of device are we looking at?" I asked.

"A computer hard-drive. I take it that you are familiar with those?"

"Very. Unless it's rigged with an explosive, I highly doubt that it will be very dangerous. Not much can be packed onto those little things."

"Good to know."

The rest of the flight was silent. As we prepared to land, I could see the magnificent lights downtown Las Vegas in the distance. Around us was all dust and desert and we landed on the only strip of asphalt within am eight mile radius. From there, the three of us took a discrete black car, which was waiting for us when we arrived, to our location. We took the roads with the least traffic and ended up in a back alley behind the Victorian Hotel.

"Agent Barton will lead the way," Romanoff commanded as I stepped out of the car. As soon as we get there, Skye, you will check for any traces of explosives on the device and analyze the content of the hard-drive."

"Yes ma'am!" I said firmly, taking off at a jog after him. After a minute he stopped in front of the back door of what I presumed to be the kitchen. He rapped his knuckles loudly against the metal only once. The door creaked open slowly, revealing a slim woman with black hair, who held a black-wrapped package.

"Good evening, Agent McCreary," he greeted her, his eyes flicking to the device. "On time, as usual. I believe it is time to get this over with."

"It's been a while, Barton. No longer working undercover, I see. I'm glad you haven't grown soft," she replied, moving away from the door. "Romanoff." Her tone was clipped when she said her name. I got the feeling that they weren't best of friends.

"This is our Junior Agent Skye. Inducted into the ranks just yesterday."

"Congratulations," said briskly, her eyes narrowing when she saw me. "We need to get moving. I don't have much time."

Romanoff handed me a small laptop and I took the hard-drive from Agent McCreary. It took only a few seconds for me to determine that there was absolutely nothing on the device. It had been wiped clean, and there certainly wasn't any explosive attached.

"It's clean," I announced, giving back the device. "Completely wiped of any evidence, no explosive."

"Excellent. Our work here is done then," Barton declared. "Anything else for us, Agent?"

"Nothing, Agent Barton. You are free to leave. Thank you for your quick work. I have to return the package before the owner realizes that it is missing."

"When is your op finished?" he asked.

"In about two weeks. I'm still waiting for confirmation from Director Fury. He isn't quite as organized as Agent Coulson was."

Barton and Romanoff stifled coughs. McCreary was oblivious to what had happened on the Helicarrier recently. She didn't pay attention to them. Good.

"Well, this is goodbye. Thank you again," she said, slipping back through the door.

That was a close call.

###################################################################################

"What time are you leaving tomorrow?" Romanoff asked as we re-boarded the plane. She was clearly attempting to seem interested.

"At noon," I replied, as brightly as I could. She sat in the seat next to me.

"Good work tonight," she commented nonchalantly, resuming her reading.

"Was that a compliment?"

"What is the definition of compliment, Agent?"

"A polite expression of praise or admiration."

"Then I believe that it can be qualified as such," she stated.

"Okay then."

How the pilot managed to land on the deck of the Helicarrier while it was still in the air was beyond me. It must have some super advanced mechanisms to lock the wheels on the pavement or something.

"You're going back into Agent Coulson's domain correct?" she asked as we stepped inside the Helicarrier once again. "Back to your team?"

"Back to the Bus, yes. They'll be meeting us at the California Oakley Airforce Base."

"Terrific. However, if I hear that you and Agent Ward are romantically involved, I will personally come to kill you. Slowly and painfully. Am I clear?"

"What made you come up with that idea? He's my Supervising Officer, not my partner. We're just friends, honestly."

"I had a feeling that you guys were close. We'll see how that works out."

"Coulson would probably get to us first before you would have the chance to load your gun. He's strict about that kind of stuff."

"Don't put your money on it, Agent," she said, giving me one last look and walking away. Heat rose to my cheeks. Oh my gosh. Thank goodness that was over. As I made my way back to my room for the last time, I began to wonder if she was right. Was this all I was? Missions and computers?

A photo was underneath my door as I walked in. The one taken yesterday at the end of the test. Written neatly on the back in blank ink was a caption. Agent Skye, Rookie Class of 2013. S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, location classified. With a sense of satisfaction, I slid it into my picture frame, which was no longer empty. And I went to sleep with a smile on my face.

Author's Note: I hope you guys liked this chapter. Yes, Skye will be reunited with the team in the next chapter. I was veering dangerously close to the Avengers crossover border, but I think we're safe. We're saying goodbye to Clint and Natasha for now. See you soon!


	12. Chapter 11

Author's Note: There's nothing much for me to say about this chapter. It's pretty self-explanatory. There will be at least one more chapter and an epilogue after this. I already have another multi-chapter AOS fic in the works. As always, spoilers for all Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. episodes aired so far. I also do not own it. If I did, MayWard would not exist.

The quiet rumbling of the Helicarrier engines forced me awake late the following morning. I would finally be heading back home today. To my team. To my family. It was 10:56 a.m., and by the time I had eaten and brought my bags to the top deck, it was two minutes to noon. We were stationed on an airstrip at a army base in California, and the air was stifling hot. Within seconds my hair was glued to my forehead with perspiration. From where I was standing, I could see a large black plane circling in the air and preparing to land. The S.H.I.E.L.D. logo was hard to miss. It was the Bus. Agent May landed it smoothly, but the plane was so loud I had to clench my hands over my ears.

With a mechanical whizzing sound, the cargo door began to lower. I ran towards it, and a tall man in a black suit I didn't recognize stepped out.

"Agent!" he commanded. "I have been instructed to tell you that Agent May is expecting you in the cockpit." He moved away from the Bus and stepped onto the Helicarrier. I walked up the ramp with my luggage into the cargo hold of the Bus, expecting my team to be there. But it was empty. So was the main common area, so I put my bags back into my compartment and went to the front of the plane.

I knocked on the door, knowing that May would be in there. She didn't answer, as always. I went in anyways and peered over her shoulder.

"Hey, May!" I exclaimed. "Care to tell me what's going on?"

"We're taking off now," she said, her face unmoving, "and flying to Germany."

"Germany? Why? Where's the rest of the team?"

"In Germany, on a mission."

"Nobody told me about this earlier because...?"

"It wasn't relevant at the time. It was also classified, but now that you have you Level One status, you have been granted preliminary access to the case."

"That's all you wanted to say to me?"

"Yes, you may go. I'll buzz if I need anything."

"Like a sandwich?"

She was silent after that, focused on her work, so I left her alone. She wasn't the conversational type. I went to unpack my things for what was hopefully the last time. I'd had enough of travelling for the time being. Nobody had been in my room during my time on the Helicarrier. It had stayed exactly the same. Bed unmade, drawers open. The whole plane was eerily quiet.

Every room on the damn thing was empty. The lab, the lounge, even the holding cell, which just looked like a large metal death trap. I had only been in there once, when Grant and Coulson had first arrested me and taken me in for questioning. That was a while ago. Thankfully, by morning we would be in Germany. The silence was starting to get to me, despite the fact that I had lived alone for several years in my van. I missed that darn thing. It was so cozy, maybe a little bit cramped. But it was mine.

May never buzzed for a sandwich. I wondered how she would be getting food. There certainly wasn't a mini fridge in the cockpit. She couldn't go that long without food, I thought, but I didn't question it. May was a questionable woman in the first place. Silent, cold and calculating. It was like all the emotion had vanished from her soul. Hardened by many years on the job. Been around the block a few times. Seen things she wished she didn't have to see. She was the called the Cavalry for a reason.

Time passed quickly. It was seven o'clock in the evening now, and we were flying over the Atlantic Ocean, level with the clouds. Hungry, I looked in the fridge, and then the freezer. Frozen shepherd's pie. Simmons must have made it. I popped a serving in the small oven we had in the wall and set a timer. With nothing but waiting to do, I slowly shuffled along the the bookcase along one side of the room.

The books were neatly arranged by subject. Mostly stuff Fitz and Simmons liked. Chemistry, physics, technology. Grant had a shelf to himself too. An American's Guide to Learning Russian, Offensive Combat Techniques Volume 4 and some other assorted books. Then I found something interesting. A Modern History of Russian Art.

It was the same book Agent Romanoff was reading on the Quinjet. The timer started to beep, so I snatched the book and went to get my dinner. Flipping through it at the table, fork in hand, I noticed something while reading the first page. At first it looked like a title page with the publishing information, but looking more closely I discovered a line of small black writing. NR page 71. In Coulson's handwriting.

I found the page. It had a reprint of a photograph dated from 2002. Just a picture of a busy city street an night in Moscow, Russia. Why would this be important? Nothing was in the foreground, but there was a small blurry figure peeking out from one of the buildings in the background. A woman, no doubt. She had long and straight red hair and was wearing dark clothing. Then it hit me. It was Agent Romanoff. The woman in the picture was Agent Romanoff. Coulson had found her in what I presumed to be his book. I remembered that he was the senior agent in charge of the case that recruited her. This photo must have been part of the case. But how?

Agent Romanoff had been brought to S.H.I.E.L.D. on September 14th 2004. If the photograph pre-dated that day, Coulson must have been doing a surveillance detail to keep tabs on her. All while trying to build a case and find reason to kill her. I sneaked the book to my room and hid it under my mattress. Maybe I would need it later for something. I didn't really know, but it had to be of use somehow. If someone discovered that I had it, however, I'd be dead meat.

###################################################################################

When I woke up again, the plane had stopped moving and we were parked on a runway. The team must be coming sooner rather than later. Dressing quickly, I ran to the cockpit, but May was nowhere to be found. The rest of the plane was empty as well. Lastly, I checked the cargo hold, and the ramp was lowered, letting the bright sunlight stream into the plane. Still empty.

My boots clicked against the metal ramp as I stepped off the Bus. A group of people stood not too far from me. The team. They turned around and were walking quickly towards the plane. I met them halfway, and it was only then I realized what they were carrying. A stretcher. Coulson was on it, his regular dark suit and tie askew.

For a split second, it felt as if my heart had stopped. I tried to take a breath, but it caught in my throat. My head spinning and heart pounding, I desperately lunged towards them grabbing whatever I could reach. But I was pushed away by someone.

Fitz and Ward were supporting the stretcher and Simmons clutched an IV bag in one hand, pressing a fistful of gauze to Coulson's shoulder with the other. They breezed past me, wanting to get up to the infirmary as fast as possible. May didn't tell me that Coulson was injured. She had kept it from me.

Feeling helpless, the only thing I could do now was to follow them. Shuffling slowly, by the time I got there, Coulson was already placed in a bed, attached to a smattering of beeping machines. The colour still hadn't returned to his cheeks, despite the meds and fluids he was on by now.

Simmons was finishing stitching up a gash on his forehead and Fitz was monitoring his vitals. Ward was nowhere to be found. Crap.

"What the hell happened?" I asked hoarsely, tears starting to silently spill over my cheeks. I tried to hide them as best as I could, but failed miserably. "What the hell, guys! Nobody told me anything!"

"We can't talk right now, Skye!" Simmons spat through grit teeth, her fingers flying to treat the rest of his injuries. "We're trying to save his life here. He may have some internal bleeding. I'll let you know if his condition changes."

Wiping my cheeks with the back of my hand, I strode through the sliding glass doors of the medical wing and sat down heavily on the first chair I saw outside of the doors. There was no clock, so I couldn't know how long I sat there. After a few minutes somebody walked up, clearing their throat. It was Grant who held out a wad of tissues. I took them gratefully and wiped away my tears.

He sat down next to me and we sat in silence for a while. I snuck a look back into the infirmary. Fitz and Simmons were gone, probably analyzing x-rays and running tests. Coulson lay in the bed, unmoving and still pale. His age was showing now, an array of wrinkles scattered across his face. He probably didn't have any family. Poor guy.

"So, um," Grant started, his voice low. "I heard you passed your exam. Congratulations."

"You can't take too much credit, even though you're my S.O. I see that you were let back into the field without going through the training program."

"My face healed up nicely and my full status was reinstated, thanks to Hill," he said.

"Well, I can take credit for that."

"Thank you, then."

"Grant," I murmered, feeling the tears well up in my eyes again. The heaviness of the situation returned. "How did this happen?"

"There was an unexpected assailant that we had to deal with," he told me solemnly. "It was nothing we could have prepared for. I'm sorry, Skye. He went in without backup, and it was a while until it was safe enough for me to go get him."

"Don't blame yourself. You saved him," I told him firmly. Our eyes met.

"I know."

Simmons hurried through the door. "You can come see him know, he's stable for the time being." She was breathless and a little bit frazzled. Our boss' life was in her hands.

We both stood up, Grant's hand gripping my shoulder. In silence we followed Simmons, who lead us over to him.

Dressed in a simple hospital gown, the light blue fabric was a stark contrast between it and the rainbow of bruises that marked up his face. He had a row stitches in several places and tubes sticking out everywhere. I grabbed one of his hands and Grant still held onto me firmly.

"Coulson," I said softly."If you can hear me, I want you to know that you are the strongest and bravest man that I have ever met. The father I never had. You have to pull through. I need you. We need you."

"The one and only AC," Grant added.

"The one and only."

Fitz had pulled up four chairs. We all sat down, resuming our vigil. May hadn't made an appearance, but a few seconds later the plane began to move. She had to be in the cockpit in order for us to fly. Fitz and Simmons sat close together, hugging each other tightly. Silent tears were streaking down her face and Fitz pressed a soft kiss to the top of her head.

I had almost forgotten that they were involved. It had been a while since I had seen them together. More than two weeks ago. Grant let go of my shoulder, but I clamped my hands around his bicep. I needed someone strong to hold on to right now. He didn't object.

To everyone's surprise, a few seconds later an almost indistinguishable moan escaped from Coulson's lips. His eyes fluttered open slowly and he licked his lips.

"Uggh...wha-at?" he managed to croak. I stood up abruptly, releasing my hold on Grant's arm and reached for the cup of water that was on a nearby table.

"Here, drink this," I encouraged, tilting it to his lips. He did as he was told, but very daintily. He didn't have much strength and was in a lot of pain.

"Morphine. I'll go grab the morphine," Fitz said, scurrying away to grab the medicine. He returned with a syringe, and pressed its contents into the IV line. Coulson's face relaxed almost instantly.

"Sir," Simmons told him, regaining her composure. "You're on the Bus, in the hospital wing, in good hands. Right now you need to rest and not worry about anything, alright? We can catch up on everything later."

Coulson gave a slight nod. That was all he could do in this state. His gaze fell upon me.

"Skye...you're back," he said slowly, trying not to move. I picked up one of his slightly withered hands, cold to the touch.

"Yeah, just for you AC," I replied. A small chuckle coughed its way out of him. He winced.

"Glad to hear it." Coulson looked over and noticed that Grant and I were holding each other. Almost protectively. His eyes narrowed for a moment, then his lips cracked into a slight smile. I had to pretend that I didn't see his reaction.

"Now that you are awake sir," Grant said, reverting our attention to the business at hand. "Now is as good a time as any to debrief. Skye can stay with you. We won't be longer than a few minutes."

The rest of the team nodded and stood up. I had to relinquish my hold on the two of them. Coulson waved his hand, telling them to go. It was just the two of us now. As soon as the doors to the wing slid shut I began talking.

"Agent Romanoff is in your art book, sir. Why is that?"

He took a moment to consider my question and pursed his lips. "The picture was taken involuntarily, for an entirely different purpose. It was a total accident that Romanoff was in the photograph. However, it became a crucial piece of evidence as the investigation progressed."

"Barton was sent to kill her," I said, trying to analyze what he just told. "And you based your case off of this one picture that was just a happy accident?"

"The fact that the picture was published had no bearing on the investigation. After we saw the photograph, it further cemented that Romanoff was very much alive and dangerous. Our investigation was launched from there."

"Interesting. That's why you kept a note on it, I see." Finally, some answers.

"Yes. Why don't you tell me about your experience on the Helicarrier. I'm curious. What did you think of the Avengers?"

Starting from the beginning, the entire story was incredibly long. By the time I was finished, the team had already returned from their debriefing.

"It seems that you're feeling much better already sir," Simmons commented, rechecking his charts for the millionth time. "I don't think we all need to be here now. They can come by later if they would like."

Giving his hand a squeeze and flashing him one last smile, Grant and I walked away while Fitz and Simmons stayed with Coulson to monitor him. We reached the common area and stopped outside of my compartment, much cleaner than it was yesterday. He had changed out of his bloody shirt but hadn't showered yet.

"Meet me in the lounge in ten minutes?" he asked.

"Yeah, sure," I replied. He shut the door and went off to clean up. We needed to talk.

Seven minutes later he walked back out, wearing a green t-shirt and jeans, which suited him much better than his bloody S.H.I.E.L.D. uniform. I stood up again, leaning against the white leather couch. He faced me.

"After you left, I uh, did some thinking," he began. "I started to realize that being an good agent isn't my only priority, and after a while I realized that this job isn't who you truly are or who you will be." He stopped and cleared his throat and then continued. "I've been an agent for more than six years and not once have I found someone that I believes in the same things I do."

His brown eyes grew softer and he took half a step towards me. "Then I met you. Skye, you are one of the most fearless, stubborn people that I have ever met. You've made me realize that there are other things in life besides being an agent. I want to be a person. A human being. Someone who is able to make mistakes, learn to trust someone and build themselves back up again."

He moved closer so that we were only inches away from each other. My heart started beating rapidly. Oh my god.

"And now I have to say it. Skye..."

I couldn't take it anymore. Wrapping my arms tight around his neck, I crushed my lips to his. He placed both hands on my hips and kissed me back.

"...love you," he finished, both of us breathless. He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly again. I began to feel weak at the knees. This was a new feeling. Something that I had never felt before.

"You know what?" I asked, looking up into his chocolate brown eyes.

"What?"

"I love you too."

He grinned.

End Note: I hope that satisfied all you Skyeward shippers out there. The next chapter will be the last chapter and then there will be an epilogue. Please review and let me know what you think!


	13. Chapter Twelve

Author's Note: I'm really happy the way this turned out. It's a good way to lead into the epilogue. Spoilers for all current Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. episodes and I don't own any TV content. Marvel does.

"Sir, just sit down!" Simmons commanded, sounding exasperated again.

"Don't you 'sir' me, Jemma. I can walk out of this place on my own, thank you very much."

Coulson was refusing to sit in the wheelchair that Fitz had brought for him. It had been ten days since he was first admitted to the hospital, and today he would be able to go back to his own compartment. Away from the needles and the smell of antiseptic.

"You can't strain yourself. Your stitches will rip if you try and walk. Do you want to spend an extra three days here or not? Ward can certainly pick you up and put you in the wheelchair if you would like."

A look of horror flashed across his face. He wanted to save his dignity "N-no, I think I'll sit down then." He did. Finally.

The whole team was in the hospital wing, even May, who left the cockpit because we were parked on a remote airstrip who knows where.

"Come on, we'll take you back to your compartment, AC," I offered, grabbing the handles of the wheelchair. Grant stood close to me and we were almost touching, but none of our teammates had picked up on any change between us. Good. It was going to stay that way for a while. We wanted to keep it a secret.

"Bye! Don't kill yourself any time soon!" Fitz called jokingly as we walked away. I swore I heard May laugh. Coulson cracked a smile.

Grant slid the door back and I pushed the wheelchair inside, close to the bed that was in the middle of the room.

"Can I grab you a book to read?" I asked, scanning the shelf along the wall.

"Robinson Crusoe, please. It's about time that I read a classic." I placed it on the bed and with a grunt of effort, managed to help him into bed, pulling the blanket around his legs.

"Yell if you need anything, okay?"

"Fine, fine. Just leave me alone already. I'm tired of being looked after," he whined.

The two of us turned around, heading for the door again.

"Oh, one last thing," he called from his bed.

"Yeah?"

"I've noticed." Our eyes widened. Grant and I exchanged a brief look.

Shit. He was onto us already. Our ten day streak had just ended.

Against my better judgment, I grabbed Grant's hand quickly, but hid it behind my back as we turned around again. He squeezed it for half a second, giving me a sense of comfort.

"Noticed what, sir?" he asked, his voice unwavering. Thank god at least one of us was acting calm.

"First Barton and Romanoff, and now you two!"

"Ha! I knew it! I totally knew it!" I yelled, feeling a little bit proud of myself. "Damn, I was right."

Coulson sighed. "You know relationships between agents are forbidden, correct?"

We both nodded meekly.

"This is highly out of the ordinary, but I'm going to choose to ignore what's going on between the both of you. As long as you maintain a professional working relationship out in the field and your judgment isn't clouded, you can stay together. Am I clear?"

"Of course, sir." On the outside, I was smiling, but on the inside, I was giddy. It wasn't a secret. We didn't have to hide it any longer.

"No offence, sir," Grant commented, a smirk on his face. "But it seems that you've been getting softer with age."

"I'm going to ignore that too, Agent Ward."

"Thank you...Phil." Whoa. Nobody called him Phil. Ever. This was groundbreaking.

"Grant."

That evened it out. We left quickly after that, not wanting to spill anything else.

"So, do we tell the rest of them?" I asked.

He leaned down to kiss my cheek. "What's there to lose? It's not like FitzSimmons is going to shoot us or anything."

"Agent May just might," I said, only half kidding.

"Well, I'm indestructible."

"Wouldn't that make you Superman?"

"Oh, shut up."

###################################################################################

Down at the lab, I saw three very different facial expressions on three very different people. We had just revealed the relationship we worked so hard to keep under wraps. Simmons was grinning from ear to ear. Fitz was in utter disbelief. May looked smug, as if she'd known about it all along.

"Somebody say something!" I cried, not wanting to stand at the front of the room in awkward silence any longer. Simmons opened her mouth, but all that came out was an indescribably girlish squeal. She ran to us and wrapped us in a bone-crushing hug. More squeals. Not wanting to seem rude, Grant slowly pried himself out of her grip.

"I'm glad you're glad Simmons," he chuckled. "Now only if you could let Skye breathe, please."

"Oops, sorry!"

She laughed, her bright eyes twinkling. Fitz walked up, snaking an arm around her waist and pinching Grant on the arm.

"Ouch! Watch it!"

Fitz cleverly scooted away before Grant had the chance to swat him on the back of the head.

"Ughh, I think I'm going to be sick," May groaned, pretending to cover her mouth with her hand. She faked retching noises and moved toward the door.

"Love is in the air, Agent May!" Simmons called happily as she left. "She's just jealous, don't worry. It's a part of human nature."

"Where did you learn that?" I asked, feigning curiosity.

"Charles Darwin's book on Innate Human Behaviours," Fitz and Simmons said together. Of course they would know about it. They could literally pull scientific facts out of nowhere.

"We need to find her a boyfriend!" Simmons exclaimed.

"You're genius, Simmons. Absolutely genius," I said. "But who do we set her up with? There's not a lot of people on this plane."

Collectively we pondered the idea. All of a sudden, I had an answer, but it made me shudder slightly. Coulson. Oh boy. Our work was cut out for us.

"Coulson!" I burst out. "We need to set her up with Coulson."

"On a scale of one to impossible, how logical is that idea?" Grant asked, smirking.

"Not too logical," Fitz reasoned, "but statistically, not impossible."

"Alright then, let's do it."

"Only if we can name it Operation Monkey," Fitz added.

"No! No way!"

"Say yes or else I'm out."

"Oh, fine," Grant said finally, sighing heavily. "You two," he nodded to Simmons and I, "start constructing possible scenarios and Fitz and I can work on the logistics."

We all nodded. The boys left to work on the "logistics", but I highly doubted that they would be getting any work done at all. Most of their time would be spent arguing or coming up with new weapon ideas. They couldn't concentrate for long. Simmons and I, on the other hand, went right to work. She had given me a notebook and a pen to write down ideas in, but after an hour, I still hadn't made a mark on the first page. Beside me, Simmons had almost written a novel, complete with diagrams.

"So, Simmons," I started, trying to start a conversation. It had been over an hour since we had last said a word. "How are things between you and Fitz?"

She looked up, blushing slightly and obviously uncomfortable. Clearly, nobody had asked her about it before.

"Uh...we're fine really. Great actually. We're going to see my parents on our next day off. They really want to meet him, me being their only daughter and all."

"Aww, you've only been dating for a while and you're taking him to meet your parents? That's so cute!"

"For your information," stated Simmons. "We've been dating for one month and three days. I think that amount of time necessitates a visit to my parents' house. Anyways, they haven't seen me since I've been ill. It's starting to worry them, I think."

"Still, that pretty frickin' awesome. I'm happy for you. Now I can start a betting pool on how long it takes him to propose. Coulson will definitely be in on it.'

Simmons turned even redder. "I think it is way too early to even discuss the matter."

"Look me in the eye and tell me you haven't thought about it, Simmons."

"Maybe I have," she admitted. "I've always wanted to get married outdoors somewhere. A small and quiet wedding. But I really must get married sooner rather than later because I want my father to walk me down the aisle. He's not in the greatest shape at the moment."

"When the time comes, I'll be there to make sure your wedding is perfect," I said firmly.

"Thank you Skye!" she exclaimed, rushing to give me a hug. I hugged her tightly in return. As we broke apart, she sniffed.

"Skye, do you really think this idea with May and Coulson is going to work?"

"Absolutely not, Jemma. I was only trying to get the boys out of our hair so we could finally have the chance to talk."

"Very smart move you made there."

"Thanks."

As if I had jinxed it, Grant and Fitz walked in the door a few seconds later, holding a piece of paper with scribbles on it aloft proudly.

"So, we have a few ideas!" they announced. Their faces fell slightly. "But nothing will actually work."

"It's not like we can set them up on a blind date," Fitz added, "because they'll know who the other person is. Which means that it's basically pointless."

"I guess we'll just have to let nature take its course," I said, a little sad. "Coulson is probably still a little heartbroken over the situation with the cellist. Maybe he's not ready to move on just yet."

"We'll have to give them some direction. Nudge them a little bit," Simmons suggested.

"That's a job for Jemma and I," Fitz interjected. "We see a lot more of Coulson than you guys do. May is always busy so we can't really rely on the fact that she's always around."

"Good idea," Grant said. "Let us know if there is any progress, but don't screw up! We only have one shot at this."

"Trust me, we won't screw up," Fitz said confidently.

And so we left them to work in the lab, with no sign of Coulson in the halls. It was quiet and Grant had an arm slung around my shoulder.

"You're quiet," he remarked.

"Huh, you say that like it's a bad thing," I replied.

"It's just unlike you, that's all."

"Okay then. Well, I've been thinking."

"About what exactly?" he asked.

"How short life is. Coulson being...injured got me thinking. Life is too short to spend it doing something you don't enjoy."

"You do only live once."

"So you have to make the most of it. Regret absolutely nothing."

"Exactly. You're sounding a little philosophical. Have you been spending a lot of time doing tai-chi with May?"

"Nah, she scares me. And she's always silent. It's almost a little creepy. So even if I do spend a lot of time with her, we don't pass the time talking."

"If it makes you feel any better, she scares me too," he admitted sheepishly.

"Yeah? Who else scares you then?"

"Promise not to tell anyone? Or laugh?" he questioned, holding up his pinkie finger.

I linked my finger with his. "Promise."

"Alright, Agent Hill scares me."

"Hill? Really?" I asked incredulously, trying to hold back my laughter.

"You promised that you wouldn't laugh!" he said, his feelings obviously a little hurt. I patted him on the arm, still laughing.

"I lied."

End Note: Yep, that was short and sweet. A word of warning - I cried while writing the epilogue. I'm a big softie, so if you're like me, have a few tissues around. Anyways, I'll post it fairly quickly. You guys rock!


	14. Epilogue

Author's Note: Unfortunately this story is winding to a close. It has been an incredible experience and I really hope you guys have enjoyed the ride. I'm planning on writing another AOS multi-chapter right now, so feel free to send me any ideas you may have. Please review and let me know what you think! Disclaimer: I do not own Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.

Thirteen months later...

The room smelled of a faint mixture of both hairspray and perfume. I adjusted the sparkly barrette that was nestled in Simmons' hair and reached up to fluff my own curls. They were sprayed stiff, unmoving.

"Perfect. You look absolutely perfect, Jemma," I announced, admiring the small blue sapphires that stood out against her brown locks that was styled in a braided up-do.

"You think so?" she asked, a little nervously. She stood up slowly from the chair, careful not to tear her dress. It was a beautiful ivory coloured strapless gown with a sweetheart neckline that had stunning intricate beading. The dress, which flowed to the ground, suited her perfectly, and she had high-heels to match.

"Fitz is going to pass out when he sees you," I replied. "In a good way, of course."

Not knowing what else to do, she hugged me tightly, and I struggled to avoid stepping on the hem of her dress. To my dismay, she sniffled ever so slightly.

"Now isn't the time to cry!" I exclaimed, reaching back to the vanity to grab a tissue. "You're allowed to cry during the ceremony, not here!"

"Yes, I know!" Jemma cried. "I just...can't help it. Everything is just so perfect. The venue, everything. All of this is thanks to you."

"Well, I did promise you, remember? Small and quiet? With you father to walk you down the aisle?"

"Oh Skye, you really didn't have to bring my father into the conversation did you? It's like you've killed the fairytale!"

"Jemma, I know it's hard dealing with the loss of a parent, but the fairytale here is you and Fitz. Don't you ever forget that. Your perfect fairytale."

We were interrupted by a knock on the door. Grant and Coulson stepped in, looking dapper in their dark tailored suits. As soon as they saw Simmons, smiles lit up their faces. They walked over, and Grant took my hand. He leaned down and kissed me quickly.

"You both look gorgeous," he said, eyeing our dresses. Mine was a short and strapless sapphire-coloured number to match Simmons' hairpiece.

"How's Fitz holding up?" I asked.

"He's very excited," Coulson responded, linking arms with Simmons. He would be the one to walk her down the aisle in the place of her father. "Although maybe he's a little upset that you couldn't incorporate a monkey into the ceremony."

"Oh, Fitz!" I muttered. Simmons merely laughed, clearly now less nervous.

"I'd better go," Grant declared, giving my hand one last squeeze. "I'll stop him if he tries to run to the nearest zoo and make a last ditch attempt to nab a monkey. See you at the altar!"

As soon as he left, Simmons took a deep breath. I took that as my cue to start walking. Confidently, but slowly, the exited the room, turned down the hallway and walked through the massive oak doors that led to the church.

The familiar piano melody was echoing through the room, and out of the corner of my eye I spotted Director Fury and Agent Hill, who sat near the front. Beside them was Agent May, who opted out of her duty as a bridesmaid to simply attend the ceremony. She had helped me organize the guest list and contacted Dr. Browning and others from S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters. We had invited the Avengers, and all but Tony and Thor were able to attend. They sat together, along with their significant others, across the aisle.

I walked up the small set of stairs to reach the altar and turned to face Grant and Fitz, who looked to be shaking slightly, but he had a smile on his face. The music swelled, and the crowd stood up abruptly to face the doors. Some already had already brought out their handkerchiefs, especially Mrs. Simmons, who stood proudly in the front row all by herself.

Through the doors stepped Jemma and Couslon, arms linked tightly together. Coulson looked like he was fighting hard not to explode with happiness. His eyes crinkled and his lips were stretched into a smile. His best agents were getting married. When they reached the end of the aisle, he turned to kiss her cheek and then he went to sit with Agent May.

Gingerly, the bride handed me her bouquet and stepped up to join Fitz at the altar. They clasped their hands together, and the priest began the ceremony.

After speaking for a minute, the priest began to recite the vows. Grant produced the gold wedding bands from his pocket and carefully they were placed on each other's fingers.

"Do you, Leo, take Jemma to be your wife? Do you promise to be true to her in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love her and honour her all the days of your life?"

"I do," he said firmly, looking directly into her eyes.

"Do you, Jemma, take Leo to be your husband? Do you promise to be true to him in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, to love him and honour him all the days of your life?"

Tears streaming silently down her face, she replied, "I do."

"Then you may kiss the bride."

Fitz gently reached for Jemma's face and they shared a soft, yet passionate kiss. When they broke apart, I realized that I was crying, and I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand.

The awaiting crowd cheered loudly. Some were shedding tears, others were wolf-whistling. They all stood up to clap and, as the wedding party, we turned to face them once again, I distinctly could see Agent Romanoff in the front row, surrounded by her teammates. She raised an eyebrow, her lips pursed, and then she smiled.

Grant and I held hands as we followed the bride and groom down the aisle. Romanoff nodded and mouthed, "told you".

At that point, I didn't really care about what anyone else thought. All I could do was be happy. The wedding party piled into a waiting limo that would take us to the reception at a banquet hall nearby. Coulson and I had to pull a lot of strings to allow the Avengers and all the other S.H.I.E.L.D. agents access to the hall because of security reasons. But in the end, it had worked out just fine.

Following a delicious dinner, it was time for the customary speeches. Starting off was Dr. Browning who shared a few old stories from when the newlyweds were freshmen studying at the Academy. Throughout the whole thing, Fitz and Simmons looked slightly embarrassed. Some of them were quite entertaining, so I couldn't blame them.

After Dr. Browning was Coulson, who, with his usually witty humour, recalled their first mission in the field together, which also happened to be when the team recruited me. I didn't interject, not wanting to steal their thunder.

A round of toasts was in order after that.

"To FitzSimmons!" the crowd roared, clinking their glasses together.

Then it was off to the dance floor. I had hired a string quartet, and we watched as the two of them shared their first dance together as a married couple. Though dancing was not their strong suit, you could obviously sense the love that they shared.

I circled the room, trying to have an opportunity to dance with everybody. To my delight, Coulson and May began to slow-dance and even the newlyweds stopped dancing to watch them. Once they finished the song, all the guests began to clap, much to their chagrin. Agents Barton and Romanoff were also dancing together. They looked like they had a lot of practice, probably from going undercover posing as couples and attending events. That wouldn't surprise me in the slightest.

When I had finished dancing with the last guest, who happened to be none other than Steve Rogers, I found myself back in Grant's arms.

"So, did you enjoy yourself tonight?" he asked over the loud music. I wrapped by arms around his neck and he placed his on my hips and we continued to dance.

"Well, I think I successfully fulfilled my duties as the maid of honour," I said confidently. "It seems that the bride and groom are enjoying themselves."

"You're absolutely right. I don't think they've had a party like this before."

He leaned forward, and as quietly as he could, whispered, "Skye, don't tell Simmons, but I think that you are the prettiest girl in the room right now."

Leaning back, I tried to muster the best shocked face I could.

"If you think I'm pretty in my maid of honour dress, just wait until you see me in a wedding dress," I said seriously.

Grant raised his eyebrows. "Is this you agreeing to get married one day?"

"Maybe..." I said slyly. "I'll think about it. But we can't talk about getting married at someone else's wedding! That's just plain rude!"

"We'll talk about it later then?"

"Yeah, later."

He winked. I pulled him closer to the middle of the dance floor, near the newlyweds. The quartet struck up a new tune and we were happy to dance the rest of the night away. But I couldn't help but think about the future. We could get married, buy a house, settle down and start a family. Away from all the hustle and bustle of S.H.I.E.L.D. business. However, that was a thought for another day. It was time to enjoy the moment.

End Note: I really wanted Coulson to walk Simmons down the aisle as because I think it was fitting. So yes, Mr. Simmons is no longer alive for the purposes of this story. Sorry! In case it wasn't clear, Skye was the maid of honour and Ward was the best man. The wonderful Avengers also made an appearance, because I couldn't just leave them stuck on the Helicarrier. Thank you all for sticking with this story. You guys have been wonderful, and a big thank you goes out to all that have been reviewing/following/favouriting! Merry Christmas!


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